Life Breathing
by The Mutant Rebel
Summary: After a loved one dies, the only thing you can do is move on in the end, right? But how can you when the one believed to be lost comes back to haunt you? AU. Character death.
1. Zero

Life-Breathing

Chapter 0

"Hey bro," Raph said solemnly as he slowly sunk down to the grassy floor, folding his legs underneath him in a fashion that he and his other brother's were familiar with. The blades of glass and soil beneath his denim encased legs were still wet from the short lived rain showers that had recently ended; the hot-blooded ninja didn't seem to care for his dampened surroundings though. Getting the smell of wet, musky earth stuck to his clothing was something that didn't really matter to him at the moment. All that matter to him now, in this space of time, was this meeting...

Raphael was silent for several minutes, contemplating the jumble of words that were piling up in his head, desperately trying to stitch them together to make a sentence. One of his large green hands reached back to scratch the back of his neck- a nervous gesture, "So...uh-" He cleared his throat deeply "-Mona's pregnant again. It's gonna be a while til we can find out what da genda is but we're pullin' for a boy this time..."

There was no reply; he didn't expect there to be one anyway but it would be nice to hear his brother's voice again after so long. Hell, if he had to give up one of his own limbs just to hear his brother call him a 'ninja school drop out' or a 'hot-head' again, he would do it in a heartbeat- no questions asked. As much as he had fought with his older brother when they were growing up in the old sewer home and as annoying as his brother got when it came to his 'Splinter Jr.' acts and long winded lectures, he would be more than willing to deal with it all over again if it mean to see the blue-clad ninja again.

Raph swallowed thickly, feeling his throat begin to clench up with emotions that could only be invoked by the mention or thought of his brother. He quickly looked down at his tightly clenched fists, resting idly upon his lap as if they were getting ready to hit something. He took a deep, searching breath and exhaled, slowly and smoothly, before he looked ahead again, "U-uh... everyone's doin' okay, doin' their own thing and all. Micky's a drummer in this gig-hoppin' band now and Donnie's... well...Donnie's doin' what he does best. I would describe it ta yah betta but... I wouldn't be able ta even if I tried. It's all a bunch of science mumbo-jumbo anywayz. And Masta Splinta... well..." Raph sighed, looking back down at his lap, his eye ridges pulled in together before furrowing, "Me and Masta Splinta opened up a dojo... you know, ta teach people ninjutsu."

He paused as his eyes began to feel the burn of sadness; he let out a humorless laugh before continuing, "It's funny; I always thought you and dad would open up a school togetha and that I would... I don't know, become a police officer or somethin' like that, once we were about to walk outside with the humans and all."

No response. Raph went on, barely able to keep his emotions in check as he did, "I... I, uh... I finally told Dorothy about ya. Y-ya know, my little girl? She saw a picta of ya and wanted ta know who ya were. I told her that you were her Uncle Leo and that..." He paused, his light amber eyes began to fog over as his emotions finally broke the surface, "...And that... ya saved my life."

There was another pause as Raph swiftly rose one of his fist to wipe at his eyes. He didn't like to cry but whenever he came to this place, it always seemed to force him to do just that, "Ya shouldn't have done it, bro. I-I wasn't worth it. I would've made it out alright. We would've both made it out alive instead of just...one of us."

"Raphael..." The sai-user looked up and to the side to see that his aged rat of a father, as old as he was, had stealthily placed himself beside the turtle. The grey furred senior, with an expression of vivid sorrow, glanced down at his second oldest son as he simultaneously rested a gentle hand upon the turtle's head as a comforting gesture, "Leonardo did what he believed in his heart was right. He did what any good older brother would've done- he protected his younger brother at all cost."

Raphael couldn't help the tears that began to fall down his face at his father's words before he roughly turned away from the older man and back to the truth that rested before him, "Well it was stupid of him, sensei! If... I-If he wasn't such a goody-goody, he would still... we would all be..."

Splinter swiftly sat down beside his hot-blooded son- a seemingly odd thing to do for a man his age, especially with such fluidity- and provided him with a sad, pitiful smile, "Even if you tried to stop him, he would have done everything in his power to protect you and the others from harm. We remember him, now, as an honorable and noble hero- a warrior- as well as a man with a heart of gold. You would have done the same if your places were switched, as would all of us."

Raphael couldn't argue with that, even if he tried. He knew that his father was right; Leo would have done everything in his power to ensure that his family was safe, no matter what anyone said or did to try and stop him. '_...Stupid Splinta Jr..._'

Raph glared at the tombstone before him as if it had does some sort of harm to him. He read the words displayed upon the marble stone, like he had so many time before:

'**Leonardo Hamato**

**June 8th 1988 - August 28th 2010**

_A True Hero, A Good Friend, and A Loving Brother_'

No matter how many times he read it, no matter how many years had past since his brother's passing, he still couldn't believe that Leo, his confidant and consciousness, his older brother, was gone from this world for good. He still expected to wake up one morning to find that it was all nothing but a dream and that Leo was still alive and well, rising with the sun and training until everyone else woke up... but Raph knew that that hope was for not. His brother was gone and there was nothing he could do to change that.

Raph bit his lower lip hard enough so as to not draw blood, holding back another round of tears that started to boil over the rim of his eyes. He felt his father lightly lay one of his long, boney hands upon one of his fisted ones as another comforting gesture before the youngest of the two spoke again, "I... I miss him sensei..."

The grey rat sighed sadly; he was grieving as strongly as Raphael was but he was far less emotional than the other. The only time he had cried for his lost son was when the boys returned home after their fight, carrying their fallen brother through the door. His soul had moved on and the senior had hoped that his eyes had been deceiving him; there was no such luck. He had cried that whole night- like everyone else did-grieving and praying that his eldest son and student had found peace after many years of training and fighting; he deserved it after all.

"I miss him as well, Raphael. After all, it is always a sad thing when a parent outlives one of their children; it is something that shouldn't have to be," Raphael didn't reply but he agreed; he felt the same way about his little girl and hoped that she would live a full and happy life.

They both sat in peaceful silence as they quietly grieved and paid their respects to their fallen family member; ignoring the overcast rain clouds and the wet, humid scent of an oncoming storm. It wasn't until the two heard and felt the soft pitter patter of rain droplets did they decide to leave for home, back to their present lives and away from the memories that had stopped four year ago, on August 28th, 2010.


	2. Life Goes On? Pt1

**A/N**: I hope you guys like this. I am really like where this story is going and it seems to flow pretty easily… though I am not so sure about this chapter really (sweatdrop). Tell me what you guys think of it. Also, your feedback was most helpful; thank you so much (bows).

**Life-Breathing**

**Chapter 1 Life Goes On? (Pt 1)**

_**August 29th 2014**_

_3:10 am; Sunnyside Diner, Brooklyn_

"Here you go hon," said a sweet but flirty waitress to a hooded stranger as she politely slipped is ordered dish on top of the table before him, "Turkey sandwich on rye with a side of french fries. Is there anythin' else I can get for ya, sweetie? Maybe somthin' ta drink?"

The stranger looked up at her from his seated position, his gentle but powerful blue eyes, much like the bluish gray skies of a fading storm scanning over her face swiftly. Even though a great deal of his face was hidden behind his dark hooded jacket and his scarf, the waitress had a feeling that he was smiling at her. She knew that the man was a mutant… but for a mutant, he sure seemed like a good-looking piece of man-meat… well, from what she could see of him anyway.

"Actually, yes," The nameless mutant said in a polite but strong voice, despite the fact that his words were somewhat muffled by his knitted scarf, "I was wondering if the name 'Splinter' means anything to you? Do you, by any chance, know anybody by that name?"

The blonde, voluptuous waitress blinked down at the man before she crossed her arms underneath her bosom, her baby blue eyes turned towards the ceiling as she thought on the name. It was a very odd and memorable name; if she had heard of it, she would have remembered it, without a doubt. She looked back down at him with an apologetic face while shrugging her shoulders, "Sorry, hon. Doesn't ring any bells."

The mutant's eyes sadden slightly before he turned back to his meal; his posture slouched a bit with minimal defeat before he spoke again, "Oh… I see."

The blonde lightly tapped her lower lip in thought, visually taking in the stranger for the umpteenth time since he had entered the diner twenty minutes ago. Besides having the physical physique of an athlete or a hunk, he appeared to be a bit… lost. He would have reminded her of a run-away teenager if it wasn't for the fact that he looked and carried himself like a man in his mid to late twenties. Perhaps he was a criminal on the run? That would explain why he was covering his face so generously in a place as public as a diner.

She thought on that for a quick minute before mentally dismissing it; he was far too shy and polite to be a criminal and far too comfortable with his surroundings to be classified as suspicious or shifty. Maybe he just recently became homeless, putting everything he valued in a duffle bag—which lay on the floor just beside his feet—and he was in search for someone that could help him? Perhaps the 'Splinter' he was looking for was someone that he was told could help him?

…Or maybe she was just running with her imagination on this one?

"Hey doll," She said sweetly, coaxing those gentle blue eyes to turn to her once again, "If you need to get in touch with someone or find someone, I know this guy that can help ya. He's a private investigator with his own braggin' rights."

His eyes seemed to brighten ever so slightly at the offer, "Really? It wouldn't be too much trouble if I asked for his assistance, would it?"

The waitress couldn't help but blush a little at the stranger's politeness, "Well ain't you just the sweetest thing, and no, it won't be any trouble. He needs to get off his fat, lazy behind after that long ass vacation he took a couple of months back anywayz. I have to warn you though—he don't do this kind of stuff for free."

The mutant nodded with understanding, "That's fine. How much does he charge for his services?"

'_Huh… so much for the homeless theory_,' She thought, raising an eyebrow curiously, before answering him, "About $40 to $60, give or take."

"Hmm… that shouldn't be too much of a problem," The stranger said, his voice laced with mirth as he bow his head her direction formally, surprising her once again, "Thank you so much, miss."

"It's no problem, hon," She smiled widely down at him before lightly jerking her chin in the direction of his plate, "Now eat up while I go get his card for ya."

He chuckled, "Yes ma'am."

* * *

_9:43 am; The Hamato Residence, Manhattan_

"…"

"…Raph—"

"Shh…!"

"…" Sigh, "Raph, you're not going to hear anything."

"And why the hell not?" said the most muscular of the turtle brothers, momentarily removing his ear from his fiancée's abdomen to look up at her with a raised eye ridge.

"Didn't I tell you the same thing for Dorothy?" Mona said, her face scrunched up with playful irritation as she stared down at him, "You're not going to hear anything until five to six weeks into the pregnancy. It's only the second week, babe."

"…Well _that's_ stupid," Raphael grumbled, pressing his ear to Mona's abdomen again, his face scrunched up with concentration as if doing so would improve his hearing somehow, "This is **my** kid we're talkin' about. They should be makin' noise as early as conception."

Mona Lisa rolled her golden brown eyes as she absentmindedly caressed the back of Raph's head in a soothing manner. Her fiancé could be stubborn and illogical at times but it was never intolerable; more amusing than anything, "I'm surprised that you can comprehend such a long word Raphie."

His growl vibrated against her skin, causing the lizard lady to giggle softly, "Don't call me Raphie…"

"Whatever you say… _Raphie_."

"Mona…" was all Raph said before he fell quiet, opting to listen instead.

The two mutants were still in bed, too awake to go back to sleep but too tired to actually get up and make breakfast. Mona had been awakened by a curious Raphael who had unceremoniously nuzzled the side of his face into the softer area of her underbelly, right where her bellybutton was. His arms wrapped protectively around her middle as he had settled against her comfortably, breathing in the scent of her reptilian skin and waiting patiently for a heart that was far too underdeveloped to be heard. It was cute and all but…she had a feeling that Raphael wasn't just trying to listen in for their baby's first movements. She believed—well, she actually **knew**—that he was being overprotective of her and their unborn child, even though they were in the comfort and safety of their own home. He only got this way when he visited his brother's grave and, considering that the day before was the anniversary of Leonardo's death, he seemed far more shielding than his usual self.

Mona sighed softly, caressing the back of Raph's bald, emerald green head again before her voice broke the silence enveloping the room, "Do you… do you want to talk about it?"

"…No," He said carefully, "I'm fine Mona. I'm just… well…"

"Yes?"

He sighed, turning his head again to look up at her with a level gaze, "I'm just missin' my brotha. No matter how much of a pain in the ass he used to be sometimes, I still miss 'em."

Mona nodded, lifting herself up in a sitting position so that she could lean down and place a gentle kiss just above one of his eye ridges. When she pulled back, Raphael's amber eyes gaze back up at her with silent curiosity, "Things will get better, babe."

"I hope so…"

* * *

"Aww, why do you have to be so damn _cute_!" cooed a certain orange-wearing, pizza-loving mutant turtle as his girl friend, Emily, sleepily shuffled her way into the Hamato's kitchen wearing nothing but a pair of black boxers and a dark orange thermal shirt that was obviously too big for her. Her chilly red hair, usually worn in a cute pixie cut, was now wild and unruly from sleep. Both of her tiny fists, hidden by the long sleeves of the shirt, had balled themselves up to wipe away the last bits of sand from her eyes before she looked over at her boyfriend curiously.

Despite the fact that Mikey Hamato was supposed to keep an eye on the breakfast he was making for the family, he couldn't help but haphazardly drop his grease cover spatula on the floor just so he could dash over and cuddle the significantly smaller other to his bare plastron. The girl let out a small squeak, barely having time to brace herself as she was hugged and snuggled like a life sized teddy bear.

"…,"Emily shook her head as she quickly got over the early morning shock, allowing her slender little arms to reach up and wrap around his neck, returning the hug with a little less enthusiasm; unlike Mikey, she wasn't exactly a morning person.

"G'morning little red," Mikey said cheerfully, pulling back slightly so that he could stare down into those deep pools of mercury. Emily reply with her own morning greeting by standing up on the tips of her toes, lightly cupping the sides of Mike's face in her petite hands as she kissed the tip of his nose sweetly.

Mikey grinned at the response before fully letting go of her, "I'm making bacon, eggs, and pancakes for breakfast. Would you like something extra? Maybe a fruit salad or a bagel?"

She shook her head—a negative response—as she politely walked past him so that she could sit at the table. He smiled after her as he when back to his task, swiftly scooping up his fallen spatula and wiping it off with a paper towel before using it again.

"So how did you sleep Em?" Mikey asked, flipped a pancake into the air with acrobatic ease, "My room wasn't too messy for you, was it?"

Emily smiled lightly at the chipper terrapin, shaking her head in reply.

"Ah, good. I've been trying to get around to giving it a full out clean but I never seem to have the time. Master Splinter has always gotten on me when it comes to time management."

Emily raised an eyebrow at him, leaning back in her chair and giving him a playfully dull expression, as if to hint towards something obvious.

Mikey pouted at the expression, "And here I thought you were on **my** side…"

Emily giggled lightly to herself before she sat up right again, smiling sweetly at her boyfriend as he continued to make breakfast for her and the rest of his family. Although it seemed like she was at home at the Hamato residence, she really didn't live with them. She lived in a quaint little studio apartment several city blocks away but couldn't stand the lonely of it sometimes. She hated the silence—it always got to her if she was enveloped in it for far too long. That was one of the reasons why she felt so attracted to Michelangelo in the first place: he was always talking, he was rarely saddened, and he always tried to make people laugh. He was her exact opposite and she adored him for it.

As much as Michelangelo adored the little red head, he had to admit that she was no where close to his type of woman. His type was a beach blonde hottie with tanned skin, big blue eyes, and the body of a model. Emily had the cute body type of a pixie with creamy colored skin. Her hair was the brightest, most vivid shade of red he had ever seen and her big, doe eyes were an open, stormy grey. See? Not his type at all… but she got him and understood him almost as well as his family did. She could get underneath his skin and ninja her way into his mind… and he loved every moment of it…

"Mikey?" said turtle turned to the kitchen doorway just in time to his genius of a brother, Donatello, lazily walking into the room, still wearing his clothing from the night before, "Did you start the coffee?"

Michelangelo wrinkled his nose in disgust, taking in his disheveled brother before answering, "Yeah, it's almost done and you fell asleep in _yesterday's_ clothing? Wait… did you even _sleep_?"

Donnie rolled his eyes in his brother's general direction as he made his way to the kitchen table, "Yes, I slept. I just feel asleep at my lab table. I was aiming for an all-nighter but, alas, I failed."

"Epically," Mikey said with a smirk, his nose still slightly twisted at the odor Donnie brought in, "You could've at least taken a shower before you came in here, smelling like armpits, overheated computer chips, and chemical _stank_."

"Oh shut up you metrosexual," Donnie said irritably, taking a seat across from Emily as he did. Emily giggled lightly to herself, watching the two brother's lightly argue with each other.

"Don't laugh at him, Em. He only _thinks_ he's funny."

Donnie smirked over his shoulder at his younger brother, "I only state what's true."

In retaliation, Michelangelo swiftly stuck his tongue out at the brainy turtle before he when back to cooking. Donnie rolled his eyes again, "Oh, _very_ classy Mikey," He said before turning to Emily, smiling at her warmly, "Good morning Emily."

She smiled back, lifting one of her hands and wiggling her fingers slightly—a small wave of greeting.

"Are you guys going to band practice today?"

"Nah," Mikey said, answering for the little red head, "We went yesterday… and you know what yesterday was."

Donnie paused before his mocha colored eyes fell on the table; a tinge of sadness lightly touched his face as he did. The brainy turtle had gone to see his fallen brother the day before the anniversary, since he had a busy work schedule to catch up with, but he was still feeling a bit nostalgic from the visit, "Yeah…"

Mikey's smiled sadly as he went on, "So I was thinking of dropping by the grave today to paying my respects. I don't know what I'm gonna do for the rest of the day though. I guess that's up to little red."

Emily chuckled before speaking for the first time since she had entered the kitchen, "It's up to you, Mikey…"

Michelangelo almost dropped his spatula and scoop his girlfriend up in his arms once again but he resisted the urge; instead, he opted to grin widely at her. It was rare for him to hear her voice, especially in the presence of others and at this time of day. He never knew why she hardly talked; her voice was always so sweet and soothing, like warm honey. Whenever he asked about it, she said that she would tell him the reason someday soon, she just wasn't comfortable with tell him so early in their relationship. He reluctant agreed and kept quiet about it ever since… no matter how much his curiosity was killing him.

Mikey cleared his voice, trying to hide his embarrassingly huge smile but failed miserably, "How about a movie/pizza date?"

She nodded as Donnie interjected, shaking his head at the couple, "You guys are so damn cute it's making my insides turn into mush…"

Mikey sucked his teeth, scooping a large series of bacon out of the pan and directly onto a serving plate, "No one likes a hater bro?"

"What does that even _mean_?" Donnie said touchily, quickly getting up—as much as his morning slowness would allow him—once the coffee maker went off, alerting all that it was finished with making the coffee. He snatched his custom "#1 Mad Scientist" mug (… don't ask XD) from the counter top before he approached the machine as if it was the Holy Messiah himself.

"…Do you live under a _rock_?" Mikey retorted, staring at the back of Donnie's head with a mixture of mock anger and shock, "Wait… never mind. You live under a _laboratory_; same difference."

"And _you_ need to find a plug for that hole in your _face_," Donnie retorted as he poured himself a mug full of liquid sunshine before he made his exit, heading back to the area that had been designated as his room/work space.

Mikey glared as his brother shell as he slowly made his exit, "Well… your _face_ is a hole."

Donnie's eyes rolled to the ceiling as he ignored his younger brother's last statement, shaking his head the whole way as he sauntered slowly towards his place of solace and peace—his lab.


	3. Life Goes On? Pt2

**Life-Breathing**

**Chapter 2 Life Goes On? (Pt 2)**

_**August 23rd, 2010**_  
_Underground; The Sewer Home_

_"Don? Can I… talk to you for a second?"_

_Donatello stopped typing away at his computer, his head turned abruptly from the large, illuminating screen to see his blue clad brother saunter over to him. The brainy turtle had been in the middle of gathering the crucial data he needed to upgrading the Battle Shell, as well as all the other technological battle gear that they held in their possession. It was one of the genius' ways of preparing for a big fight and it seemed that everyone else could sense the upcoming battle as well. Master Splinter was on edge, as if he were waiting for an enemy to attack at any given time. Michelangelo was actually practicing his katas rather than play videogames or reading comic books for the whole day…which was surprising to say the least. Raphael, who had been busy preparing for the arrival of his and Mona's baby, was either meditating in the dojo or training vigorous for hours on end. And Leonardo… well… Leonardo was quiet. He didn't give his usual 'fearless leader' speeches or provide helpful side notes whenever his brothers trained. To say that his eldest brother's actions were unnerving was an understatement…_

_"Uh, sure Leo," Donnie said, taking in his brother's light colored eyes and seeing, firsthand, the uneasiness and turmoil that was veiled behind them. The brainy turtle turned in his computer chair to fully face Leo, "What's on your mind?"_

_The fearless leader stared at his brother for a long time before his gazed shifted to floor, apparently searching his mind for the right words to say. No matter how harsh or unedited something sounded, Leo still said it without hesitation. This was something else that seemed to be off about the blue wearing turtle, since Leonardo seemed to always know what to say. Now it seemed like his words were being suppressed, as if he knew what he wanted to say but couldn't say it in its bluntest or truest form. So the real question in this situation: what was Leo trying_ not _to say?_

_"Donnie…,"Leo sighed out, his tone melancholic and his eyes filled with intensity when he made eye contact with Don again. At this point, Donatello, for a lack of a better expression, was really starting to get freaked out; Leo hadn't used that nickname for him since they were twelve—the only ones that called him that still were Mikey and Raphie, "Can I ask you something?"_

_Donnie's wide brown eyes softened slightly even if they still hide a hint of curiosity and worry. Despite his brother's weird behavior, he knew that he couldn't refuse a request from someone who had always protected him, through thick and thin. He nodded, "Of course."_

_Leo smiled softly—a somewhat sad smile—as he continued with his question, "Donnie… if something were to happen to me"—Donnie didn't like where this was going— "Something… bad, would you become the leader in my place?"_

_The purple clad turtle looked up at his older brother with disbelieving eyes, as if the fearless leader had just told him something absolutely and ridiculously implausible. The idea of something happening to Leo that would leave him… incapable of leading was absolutely preposterous; with all the stuff the Hamato brother's have been through, one would thing that Leo was damn near immortal._

_The intelligent turtle was silent for several moments before he stood up from his computer chair so that he could stand at eye level with the other, "Leo… where did this come from all of the sudden? Something bad happening to you?"_

_Leo's gaze remained unmoving and piercing, so much so that Donatello had to fight to maintain eye contact with him, "Please… it's a simple question."_

_The genius gulped lightly, "Well… I don't think that I would be the best choice for leader, in all honesty. I'm too weak of a ninja, Leo. The idea of me leading anything is a bit funny."_

_It was true that Donnie was the most gentle of the four brothers. Instead of choosing an offensive weapon, like his other brothers did, he choose a defensive weapon—the boa staff. Instead of focusing on the power behind his katas and attacks, he focused on the fluidity and gracefulness of it. Instead of thinking of ways to take down his enemies with brute force alone, he thought of stratagems that avoided unnecessary blood shed. Also, he knew, without a doubt, that if he were to go up against the Shredder by himself—like Leo had done one of the many times they had went up against him—he would be killed in a matter of seconds. How could he replace Leo if something happened to the courageous turtle? It was like… replacing a titan with a wannabe; a hero with a sidekick. It was laughable, really. In fact, Donnie_ would _have laughed if Leonardo wasn't looking at him with such a serious face._

_"Not true," Leo said, "Pure strength isn't the only thing that makes a leader. If that were the case, then Raph would have been the leader. If it wasn't for you and that brilliant mind of yours, Donnie, we'd all probably be dead by now."_

_Donatello couldn't help but blush a little; it wasn't often that he was complimented openly by any of his family members, "Uh… well…" What could he say to that?_

_"Just… just promise me something, Donnie… this one thing and that is all I will ever ask of you at this level of seriousness."_

_Donatello didn't like the tone of voice his brother was using but he slowly nodded his head anyway, silently urging him on._

_"…Promise me that you will step in as the leader if something_ does _happen to me."_

_Donnie looked away, conflicted, "But… but Leo…"_

_"I'm not saying something will happen to me... but it would give me some peace of mind to know someone with a level head took over after I was gone."_

_The genius didn't like how his brother was talking but he choose to simply answer him, even if the worry was so vividly painted across his own face, "…I-I promise."_

_Leo nodded, smiling that oddly melancholic smile that was making Don awfully uneasy, "Thank you Donnie."_

_Before he could mumble out a 'no problem', he was pulled into a tight hug that caused him to go ridged in his brother's hold. It took him a moment to realize what happened before he relaxed himself, his worry for his brother suddenly jumped from moderate to extreme levels. Not only was his brother abnormally melancholic but he suddenly knew how to show open affection. What the hell did_** that** _mean? "Uh, Leo? Is… is everything alright?"_

_He felt him nod against his shoulder slightly, "Yeah, everything's fine."_

_"…You sure?" Donnie double checked._

_Leo paused for a second, seemingly contemplating his answer before he replied, "Yeah…"_

_After a couple of seconds, Donatello relaxed fully in his brother's arms before he slowly returned the hug, despite the weirdness and mystery that had started it in the first place._

_It was the last hug they had ever shared together…_

_**August 29th 2014**__  
11:37 am; The Hamato Residence, Manhattan_

"Donatello, my son, are you alright?" The turtle in question blinked rapidly before slowly turning away from one of the windows in their apartment loft to look at his father. He quickly glanced at his wrist watch and nearly balked at the time he saw; he had been so caught up in his own thoughts and memories that he ended up taking a much longer break than he had expected. He should have been back in his lab forty-five minutes ago.

Damn… now he would never catch up on his work…

"Ah, yes sensei," He responded sheepishly, reaching a hand back to scratch at the back of his bald head, his fingers absently brushed against the tails of his mask. He had been sitting comfortably in the window seat of the apartment, staring out into the open skies that hovered above the restless city of New York, "Sorry, I've been out of it for the past couple of days. There are a few deadlines that I have to meet by the 31st. Not only that, but the company is getting ready for this big award ceremony that I'm helping to organize and—"

"Donatello," The old gray rat interjected gently, causing the other's initial flow of words to stop abruptly, "For a ninja who has been trained in at art of stealth since adolescence, you have yet to learn how to fully mask your true emotions."

"F-father?" His voice came out with uncertainly, as if Donnie was hoping that his father had mistaken his mildly forlorn mood for something else. There was no such luck…

"My son… your face has always been an open book, even to those who ain't gifted with empathy or sensitivity," Master Splinter slowly walked over to sit at the other end of the window seat, "You still think of your brother's last days on Earth with such unwavering intensity… so much so that it hurts your heart every time you do."

Donatello looked down at his lap, ashamed. Splinter went on, "Would I be correct in assuming this?"

"I… I can't help it, sensei. Every time I look back at the days before Leo's… death, I can't help but feel like one of us, especially me, could have prevented it from happening."

The turtle swallowed, coating his dry throat with moisture before he continued, "I had known, sensei."

Splinter's eyebrow's furrowed at his son's words, "Donatello…"

"I _did_ know, sensei. At the time, I couldn't piece it together fast enough but in the back of my mind, I knew something wasn't right with him. He was giving off all the signs of a possible suicide victim… but it wasn't a suicide. He had been _murdered_… and he had been acting as if he knew he was going to die."

"I would not be surprised if Leonardo _had_ known when his time was to come," Donatello quickly looked up at his father, surprise and question swirled behind his wide, brown eyes, "There have been stories of great and courageous warriors who have correctly predicted that their next battle would be their last."

"But how could he have known that? How could he have possibly known something like that? There is no feasibly logical occurrence that could have told him that he was going to die," The brainy turtle shook his head, as if he were trying to convince himself rather than his sensei of what he was saying.

"Sometimes… there is no logic, my son," The elder of the two slowly reached over to lay a gentle, comforting hand on his second youngest son' shoulder, "Leonardo was extremely in tuned with the senses he needed to be a great ninja… that included the senses dealing with the unknown."

"If he knew he was going to die, then why did he have to come with us that night?"

Splinter's eyes softened further, watching the mild expression of misery on his son's face slowly morph into intense sorrow, "… I think you already know the answer to that Donatello."

He did know that answer but for some reason he felt the need to ask anyway. Even if Leo had known about his impending death or not—even if a divine deity came down from the heavens and told him, first hand, that he was going to die on his next mission—nothing would have stopped him from going. The courageous turtle would have done everything in his power to protect his family; he would never abandon them just to ensure his own safety.

Mocha eyes stared back at the aged ninjutsu master for a short, contemplative moment before they closed slowly, physically hiding the tears that were quickly beginning to build up; Ugh, he thought he was past this already! Donnie raised one of his arms to block his eyes, somewhat ashamed that he was shedding tears before his master, "Why couldn't he be selfish… for just that once?"

"Lily, what kind of uncle do you think Uncle Leo would have been if he hadn't gone away?" Dorothy asked her stuffed, floppy eared bunny that sat innocently on her bed as she shuffled across her room looking for her favorite turquoise sneakers. She was ecstatic—her father had offered, rather enthusiastically, to take her to the kid's park near their house. It was rare for him to take her out, since he was so busy with teaching advanced classes at the dojo, so this was some serious stuff for her. She finally had some time to be with her daddy.

Dorothy hummed in thought as she thought about the last place she had put her shoes, coming up blank every time. She released a frustrated sighed before she rushed over to her bed and swiftly dropped down to her knees so that she could look underneath it. Perhaps she accidentally kicked them under there when she had been instructed by her mother to clean her room?

She blew raspberries when she stood back up, empty handed, "Daddy said that Uncle Leo was the only ninja that could beat him. Can you believe that, Lily? Someone who could beat _daddy_?"

The stuffed animal remained silent but, then again, it didn't really need to talk. Dorothy simply responded back to her as if she had spoken, "He must have been a very cool ninja. Huh… I wonder if he was nice…"

After a few more minutes of searching for her misplaced shoes, she released a sigh of defeat, running both of her tiny forest green hands through her short chestnut brown hair with mild frustration. She pouted, her wide golden eyes narrowed to the best of their ability, angry at herself for loosing her shoes for the umpteenth time since she had gotten them a couple of months ago. She really needed to start keeping track of the things that she truly treasured; the only thing she hasn't lost on a daily basis was her stuffed bunny, Lily.

She suddenly nodded vigorously to no one in particular… or maybe it was Lily; one could never in such a situation, "Daddy said that Uncle Leo was the… uh… '_strong, silent type_'… I think that's what he called it… whatever that means. Hm… maybe that means he's really shy?" She turned to face the motionless stuffed animal, soundlessly snapping her fingers (since she had yet to learn from her father how to execute a perfect finger snap) as a physical '_eureka_', "You know what? I bet he was really kind. Daddy said that Uncle was Grandpa Splinter incarnate and Grandpa's really _really_ kind."

After a second of silence, Dorothy's childishly mirthful eyes saddened ever so slightly as she slowly moved over to her bed and climbed on top of it, crawling over to her artificial, cotton-based friend. She lifted the bunny with her tiny hands until her gaze was level with Lily's black button eyes, "Do you think he would've liked me…?"

Lily didn't respond for obvious reasons but Dorothy continued on, "I wish I met him before he left… but he's in a better place now. It is _Heaven_ after all…"

"Baby doll?" Dorothy quickly turned at the sound of her father's rough voice, smiling brightly when she saw him leaning against the doorframe of her room, holding up her sneakers in all of its bright blue glory, "Ya lookin' for these?"

"You found them!" Dorothy, within the span of a single heartbeat, scrambled excitedly off of her bed and half skipped—half shuffled herself over to her father, raising her hands and dancing on the tips of her socked toes to receive her beloved footwear, "Where were they?"

"Ya left 'em in the livin' room," Raphael reprimanded gently, giving her the shoes, "I told ya to keep them stashed away when ya take 'em off. You can't just leave 'em in the middle the floor like that, Doe."

Dorothy blushed shamefully, frowning slightly, "Oh… I'm sorry daddy. I forgot."

"… It's alright. Ya betta be glad that it was me who found ya shoes and not ya motha. Ya know how much of a neat-freak she is," Raphael smiled reassuringly down at the little hybrid, lightly ruffling her hair in a playful way, "Now go get ya sweata. We're leavin' in a couple-a minutes. …Do ya need help with tyin' ya—"

"I got it," She cut him off promptly; her shining smile greeted the oldest turtle brother before she hurried off to the closet in the living room where her baby blue sweater resided. Raphael watched her pitter patter down the hallway until she vanished around the corner. He blinked after his daughter before he smiled proudly—his little girl was growing up so fast and he hadn't even seen it coming.

After a couple of seconds of standing in the girl's doorway, Raph turned back to look at the room one last time before he left the house, quickly spotting the ragdoll of a bunny rabbit resting ever so innocently on one of his daughter's powder green pillows. He sighed after staring at the thing for several moments before he reached for the knob and slowly closed the bedroom door, "… I wish ya coulda met 'em too baby doll…"

_3:40 pm; The AMC Empire 25 Movie Theater_

"… So… no good movies out, huh?" Michelangelo said somewhat sheepishly as he and his little redhead stood just outside the reach of the line, looking over the movie times that stood above and behind the ticket counter. They had come from visiting Leonardo's grave and were currently going out… well… _attempting_ to go out on date. They must have been standing there for a little over five minutes, silently looking over the possible movie choices with disappointment. The only things that were available to watch were movies they've already seen or movies that weren't worth their time.

Emily agreed with a quiet, "Uh uh."

Mikey hummed lowly in thought, reaching a hand back to rub at the back of his neck—a nervous gesture of his. Feeling any form of uncertainty was very much out of character for him but he couldn't help it. Although he had known Emily since the creation of their band, _Late Night Pizza Delivery_ (**A/N**: I couldn't help it XD), two years ago, he had only been going out with her for a month and a half. He knew that Emily was completely different from his first girlfriend but he still felt that there was a possibility that he would say or do something to anger her or bore her. His first relationship was like walking on eggshells—it was filled with unnecessary drama and it had been far too fast for his liking. With Emily, everything was enjoyable… sweet and slow, like a turtle—no pun intended. He was able to savor and truly enjoy what they had and he couldn't ask for anything more. All he had to do now was make sure he didn't mess it up…

"I have an idea," Mikey said with a chipper voice, turning to look down at her, automatically greeted by her warm grey gaze the moment he did, "Why don't we have a movie night at your place tonight? We can go rent some movies and order a pizza pie. We can still have out pizza/movie date… just a little less complicated."

Emily stared up at the carefree mutant before she smiled pleasantly, nodded her head to let him know that she agreed with the idea, "…What movies?"

Mikey smiled at hearing her honey sweet voice but quickly answered, "Hmm… anything that isn't sappy or angsty or depressing… or has a sucky ending."

Emily giggled at his reply but nodded in response, timidly grabbing his three fingered hand and politely pulling him through the front doors of the movie theaters and out into the streets of New York. It took them about forty minutes or so to find a familiar movie rental that was close to Emily's apartment building; it was there that Mikey lost it. There were so many movies, everything from the most recently releases to the oldies that he and his brother's had grown up with before Donnie was able to get them free cable. There were movies that he had been meaning to see for the longest time but was unable to find them. There were movies that he had lost and wished to see again. There was just… _**movies**_; this had to be the mother load of all movie rentals.

"Have you been holding out on me, little red?" Mikey said, teasingly placing a hand over his heart, faking a hurt expression. Emily looked up from the two movies she had been briefly scanning over to give her anthropomorphic boyfriend a curious, wide-eyed look, trying to fathom what he was talking about.

"This place is a _goldmine_," Mikey said, emphasizing his point by pointing enthusiastically to every aisle that was in his view with an open palm, reminding Emily of someone trying to hale a taxi or, on a more dramatic not, someone trying to proclaim some sort of prophetic message. It was rather funny but she hid her chuckle well, "I don't think I'll go to a movie theater ever again as long as this place is still standing…"

Emily shook her head just as Mikey went off, scurrying across the store and scooping up DVDs like a kid would in a candy store. For a twenty-six year old, he was surprisingly jovial and child-like… then again, that's one thing that made Mike so special to her. As she went back to find movies of her liking, she briefly wondered about how different Michelangelo was compared to his other two brothers. Where Raphael was extremely masculine and impulsive and Donatello was polite and soft-spoken, Mikey was goofy and incredibly energetic. She sometimes wondered how she was able to keep up with him for so long.

Even his reactions to his deceased brother was different than his other surviving siblings. Where the other two were clearly saddened by the fallen ninja, Michelangelo masked his feelings all too well. She knew that the orange loving turtle missed his brother incredibly but he was still able to be his cheerful, uplifting self while his brothers remained wounded by their brother's sacrifice… a sacrifice that she had yet to hear the details of.

When they had went to visit Leo's grave, although Mikey didn't mind her being there with him, he had opted to speak in Japanese rather than English when he had paid his respects and 'spoke' to the tombstone. She had to admit, it was odd hearing the turtle speak such a language with his upbeat, surfer-dude accent but she understood that his words must have been personal. She wondered what he had said… what his true feelings were. What did he truly think about the loss of his brother? Why did he refuse to talk about it? All she could hope for was that he would, someday, confide in her… and she hoped that she too would be able to confide in him.

As Emily absentmindedly turned a corner to enter the action/adventure aisle near the back of the store, she slammed unexpectedly into a stranger, releasing a surprised gasp when she stumbled backward and fell unceremoniously to the floor.

"Oh, I'm sorry," said the stranger, his voice politely—very much like Donnie might sound—but with far more confidence, "I didn't see you there. Are you okay?"

Emily nodded her answer, glancing up from her fallen position and seeing a heavily clothed stranger bending over at the waist and offering her a hand for assistance. She blinked at the offered appendage, noticing that the hand was green and only had three fingers. Her grey eyes traveled passed the hand to look up into his face, seeing that it was covered heavily by a scarf and hood… which was a bit odd, seeing that it was still summer and all, '_A mutant?_'

She hesitantly took the hand, letting out a quick breath when the other pulled her up off the floor with an effortless tug. When she was able to gain her footing comfortably, she looked back up into the stranger's covered face. The only thing that was visible of his facial features was his eyes – light in their color and deep in their look.

Just as she was about to open her mouth to give him a verbal 'thank you', she heard Michelangelo's loud and jovial voice called her, causing her to turn around quickly just in time to see him approach her, carrying an arm full of movies that she knew they wouldn't be able to finish watching in one night, "What's up little red? You found some movies too? I don't want tonight to be just movies that I like."

She nodded her reassurance, turning her head slightly to provide her paused 'thank you' to the mutant stranger that helped her up but found that he was no longer there. She blinked, bewildered, looking down the only two aisles that he could have gone down only to find that both were vacant except for herself and the orange clad turtle. She blinked, surprised. She couldn't have imagined that whole interaction… could she?"

"Em? Everything alright?"

"…Yes," She said, a hint of confusion and uncertainty lined her voice as she turned back to face her boyfriend, "It was nothing… everything's fine."

**A/N**: This one was both fun and stressful to write because I kept on getting writer's block between each section of this chapter. I also hated how I kept on going back to Leo's death some way, shape, or form… but this chapter and the one before it was supposed to revolve around the life with the Hamato family after Leo's death and how the aftermath after the event. Luckily though, the chapters after this won't be talking about Leonardo's death, visiting his grave, or anything of the sort.

**Random Notes and Questions** (; D): What kind of person was Michelangelo's first girlfriend? How does she differ from Emily and what had gone wrong in his previous relationship that ended it? (Your thoughts?)

When Donatello says that Leonardo, although he wasn't suicidal, gave off the typical signs of a possible suicide victim. What signs did Leo put forth in the short flashback at the beginning of the chapter?

Michelangelo… speaking Japanese XD, while I was writing it, Uzumaki Naruto kept on coming to mind ^^;


	4. Second Skin

**A/N**: Hey there all; I would like to thank those who have visited this story as well as those who have left reviews—Thank you so much ^^

I also want to express my thanks to Mindychan who had beta read this chapter... and I must say that she did a fantastic job. Thank you Mindy (grins)

I would also like to provide the answers to the questions I left behind in the last chapter. Ready :D? _Here they are_~

**What kind of person was Michelangelo's first girlfriend? How does she differ from Emily and what had gone wrong in his previous relationship that ended it? (Your thoughts?): **Mikey's first girlfriend was almost exactly like him. She was extremely talkative, extrovert, and bubbly. She could be somewhat of a joker or a kidder but not as much as Mikey. Unlike Michelangelo, however, she was bossy, attention grabbing, whiney, and a little annoying. She was a drama queen in the worst aspects of the word. Mikey, being carefree, fun loving, and somewhat sensitive, felt that he was always walking on eggshells around her, as I had said in the second chapter. She always wanted his attention and she'd act like a spoiled child to get it. Mikey hated that she was running his life and basically restricting his time with his family and friends; it was one of the main factors of why he dumped her. The other? You'll just have to read :D

**When Donatello says that Leonardo, although he wasn't suicidal, gave off the typical signs of a possible suicide victim, what did he mean? What signs did Leo put forth in the short flashback at the beginning of the chapter?**: Leonardo was acting different than his brother was used to (he seemed uncertain about what he wanted to say, he complimented his brother openly, showed open affection, etc.); he was oddly melancholic (sad smiles, somewhat distressed expression or disposition); speaking as if he knew his life was in danger or that he knew he was going to die; and finally (_the answer that was hard to find XP_) giving up/offering up something that he would have normally refused to pass up (his **leadership**—one of Leo's most valuable possessions, aside from his swords and his relationships).

Did you get it? If you did, congrats, if not… then sorry to hear that XD

**Warning: Contain a sensitive topic/scene and some foul language**

Now, without further delay—here is chapter 3!

Enjoy X3 ~

* * *

**Life-Breathing**

**Chapter 3 Second Skin**

_**September 2**__**nd**__** 2014**_

_12:10 am; Somewhere in Brooklyn_

"Hello, you have reached the office of Jason Simmons, local New York City Private Investigator. Unfortunately, I am out of town at the moment and will not be back until September 20th. If you are interested in making an appointment or presenting me with a case, please leave your name, number, and a brief message and I will get back to you as soon as possible. Thank you."

…_Beep_.

"Uh… Hello Mr. Simmons. My name is Hiro and… I am looking for someone but I'm not sure who he is…" There was a brief pause before the one-sided conversation continued_ …_ "You see… I've lost my memory a year ago due to a head injury I sustained in an… _accident_ and no one has claimed me. I've just recently remembered something that could help me find out where I belong. So… please call me back as soon as you're able; my number is (347) 474 4722. Thank you and I hope to hear from you soon."

A green, three fingered hand hesitantly placed a black receiver on the pay phone's hook before the owner of the hand, a heavily dressed figure of obvious mutant origin, stepped out of the privacy of a glass phone booth. He looked to his right, spotting a sidewalk clock and realizing just how late it was, and he cursed lightly under his breath. He had let time without him being the wiser. He had planned to go back to his home two hours ago, but he'd become so fascinated and so involved with the city's glories that he could not help but wonder around in order to familiarize himself.

Ever since he had woken up a year ago in an unknown place with no memories of his life before, he had been prohibited from going outside by the people he could only assume knew him. He had been spoon fed information about his supposed life from _before_, the moment he had opened his eyes to confusion. They had told him that his name was Hiro; they had told him that he was a valuable and trustworthy member of their organization. They had told him that he was a valiant warrior who was skilled in the art of ninjutsu. They had told him that his memory loss had resulted from a devastating head injury that he had received from his last epic battle.

For a time, he had believed it; he really couldn't do anything else _but_ trust the people who had welcomed him with open arms. They had already claimed him as if they had known him for all of his life. What reason did his naïve mind have to doubt them? From then on, he had lived with them and befriended them for a whole year. He had thought that they were his friends… his _family_.

…But then his memories began to come back… and they weren't the memories that his so called 'peers' had instilled in his mind. Although he had only regained a miniscule fragment or two from his life before the '_accident_', he had remembered enough to know that he had been lied to… but for what reason? Why did they try to overwrite his life with a new one? Did they _know_ who he truly was? Was his real name even_ Hiro_? The mutant shook his head, coming back up from the sea of thoughts that he often found himself drowning in since he had run away from his '_home'_. It wasn't like he could ask now.

After he had forcefully pushed his woes momentarily out of his head, he began to walk in the direction of his new home, quickly reading the nearby street signs to find that he was only a short walk away. He reached both of his hands up to readjust his hood, pulling it further over his head and face.

'_I've already been searching for two weeks now and I've come up with nothing on that name. Now I _finally_ get a break and I can't even do anything about it until this Mr. Simmons comes back from where ever he is. Ugh… someone up there must be laughing at my sorry behind right now…_,' Hiro thought with frustration, shoving his large, green hands into the pockets of his coat.

Splinter… that name was one of the only things he could remember that connected him to his past—to his very roots… his _origins_… or so he could assume. Although he was glad to at least remember something, he wished he could put a face to the name. Was the person a mutant or a human? What kind of person were they? Were they young? Old? Did they know who he was? Would they remember him if he was ever able to track them down? What kind of relationship did he share with this person?

Ah… the questions were endless…

Just as Hiro was getting ready to turn onto the corner where his home resided, a short shriek pierced through the air and reached his ears just before it was abruptly repressed by some unknown force. His senses automatically went into overdrive, his muscles flexed with the anticipation of a fight and his stance shifted into a more alert one, feeling that someone nearby was in danger. A part of him wondered why he cared but a greater part of him knew that it was only right to help someone that was in trouble. If only he knew why this impulse was suddenly weighing on him like a ton of bricks. He wasn't a crime fighter; he was just a mutant who needed to find out where he came from.

…But he couldn't just go home when there was a possibility that he could've saved someone from getting hurt… or worst, dying.

His lips tightened into a hard line of determination and his hands clenched into fists at his side; his decision was made.

* * *

"Shut up, bitch," The man hissed a raspy whisper at the woman in his clutches, his large dirty hands clamped over her mouth, silencing her loud screams and pleading while his other hand hungrily roamed over her body. Her back was tightly and uncomfortably pulled to her attacker's chest, keeping her secured to him. He knew what he was doing was wrong and, in the back of his mind, he knew that he should stop… but his desires were far more overpowering than his consciousness was. The woman was absolutely divine—her body was so deliciously voluptuous in build, her skin was delicate and even in complexion and her hair was long, curly and soft. She was gorgeous and he had wanted her to be his. It wasn't like she was going to give him the time or day if he had simply walked up to her and talked to her. Oh no… no, most definitely not. He knew she was out of his league… that's why he knew he had to take what he wanted. There was no other way.

He _**had**_ to have her _now_.

He breathed hard down her neck, causing her to shudder harder with fear, "You shouldn't fight it anymore. You'll never get away."

The woman sobbed and struggled harder, opting to fight away from her captor rather than just sitting back and taking it. Her captor grunted out a curse when the heel of one of her pumps stabbed him in his foot and he let out a hiss when she bit down on his hand, despite how obviously unsanitary it was for her to do so. The man recoiled back, giving the shaken woman enough time to distance herself from him.

"Shit!" He yelled, shaking away the pain. He glared at his prey, "You're gonna pay for that…"

The woman stood her ground, despite the fact that her back was facing the dead end of an alley way and her front was facing a man who wished to do her harm. Her eyes widened in horror when the man pulled a switchblade knife out from the waistband of his pants, flipping it open and holding it in his grip, crouching ever so slightly, as if he were preparing himself to pounce. The man grinned devilishly; the woman gulped, visibly frightened and disheveled but unwilling to give up. She was raised to never give, especially when it comes to her own life and safety.

"Now just stand still for me so I won't have to use this on you."

Scared but angry as hell, she spat at her attacker's feet, her eyes blazing, "Fuck you!"

The action barely fazed him as he slowly began to step forward, his lips curled into a nasty, Cheshire grin, "Got some fire in you, huh? Heh, I like that."

It was then that a rough green hand reached forward and grabbed the offender's occupied hand, harshly jerking it back and bending it back behind said offender's back mercilessly. The wrongdoer hissed before releasing a shout of pain when the grip around his wrist suddenly tightened. The action had been so abruptly painful that a loud series of cracks could be heard before the switchblade fell unceremoniously to the concrete floor.

The predator was then curtly pushed to the ground, cradling his damaged wrist as he looked up at _his_ attack. He was about to curse out at whoever dared to interfere but his words stopped dead in his throat when cold, icy blue eyes glared down at him. The glare was so earth shattering and unmercifully powerful that the man believed he had come face-to-face with the Grim Reaper himself. A chill went up his spine as the color drained from his face. He had fallen still, unable to speak and unable to move as the dark figure swiftly crouched down and fisted the front of the fear-stricken man's shirt, lifting him up with little effort. The dark figure narrowed his eyes into deep slits before his voice rumbled deeply with anger and disgust, "Then you're gonna _love_ me…" (1)

* * *

_8:32 am; The Hamato Residence, Manhattan_

"Oh God, I'm going to be _late_," Mona Lisa all but squeaked as she shuffled across the bedroom to reach her closet, her pretty green face contorted with distress and worry. Her damp form was sporting nothing but a dark pink towel that she had hastily wrapped around herself before she left the shower. She didn't quite know _why_ she did that, seeing how she used to walk around 'naked' all the time before mutants were welcomed to human society. You'd think that she would at least be comfortable enough to walk around her own house in her birthday suit. Eh… who cares right now; she was going to be late!

"Damnit all," She growled out as she rummaged through the closet she and Raphael shared, trying to find something that she would deem appropriate for this particular day, "Ugh… how the hell does a New York City high school teacher dress nowadays? Do they wear pencil skirts with a fashion top or… o-or do they wear colorful, casual wear or… ugh! This is so _infuriating_!"

Mona sighed in frustration; her hands reached up to grip her long chestnut brown hair at the scalp and too distracted to notice that her towel dropped to the floor around her feet. In response to this, Raphael, who had lazily propped himself up on their bed using one of his elbows in order to watch his frantic fiancée, released a low whistle. A slow, lecherous grin spread across his lips and an eye ridge rose suggestively at the other's back, "Why dontcha move that tail _my_ way, hotness?"

Said tail whipped lightly towards Raph's general direction before Mona turned her head just enough to look at him through the corner of her eye, "… Keep it in your pants, Mr. Hamato."

"I ain't wearin' any pants but don't worry; I can control myself," The muscular turtle smirked back at his wife-to-be as he sat up fully in bed.

"Hmph," Mona breathed out teasingly, turning back to look at her selection of clothing, her mind still in a panicky jumble. She wanted very much to make a good first impression on the other teachers and staff members that she would be working with in the same building, including the current year's students. Teenagers had no semblance of a word filter or a correctly crafted consciousness. Sometimes they attacked things that were different—perfect example? Herself. She wouldn't know how anyone would react to her until she got there so she had to look her best…

Hm… skirts were far less humiliating to wear than pants were… (**Insert self-conscious tail flick here**)

Ah… and her reptilian skin was starting to shed so perhaps a knitted sweater or shirt would suffice until all of her new skin was visible?

Oh… but that would also mean that she wouldn't be able to wear stockings—it would be a little embarrassing if she did. She didn't feel like going outside with bare legs; wouldn't that be inappropriate, anyway? Perhaps she could sport a pair of black leggings? Or maybe—

Mona released a small yelp when strong, deep emerald arms wrapped fully around her waist, pulling her back comfortably into the medium-hard plastron of a certain hotheaded turtle. The reptilian brunette automatically relaxed when Raphael nuzzled the side of his face into her neck—an action he usually did when he wanted to comfort her and/or when he just wanted to hold her, like he was now.

"Ya need ta calm down, babe," Raph said, his Brooklyn accent especially thick from a good night's rest, "I neva seen ya this on edge before…"

"That's because I never had a _job_ before… not while I was a mutant anyway," Mona said with a sigh, turning her head slightly so that she could get a glimpse of his dark amber eyes, "And, especially, not a job like _this_. I mean, mutants have only been able to walk around for nearly half a decade now and some people are still getting used to us so…," She paused, closing her eyes before looking away from him, "…I didn't think I would get a job as interactive as a _physics_ teacher so easily. I thought, at best, that I would be a tutor or something…"

Raphael pulled his head back, his neck craned back slightly so that he could see Mona's face fully, "What? Ya don't think ya deserve ta get a job like that? Shit… wheneva you start speakin' that science and formula mumbo-jumbo, I can't understand a word ya say… that's how I know ya qualified."

Mona rolled her eyes, "It's not that I don't think I deserve it. It's just… I'm scared of what people will think of me," Mona frowned slightly, turning in Raphael's hold so that should could stare up at him, "People _are_ accepting of us but they'll always look at us as if, at any given second, we'll turn into wild, animalistic beast."

"Bullshit," Raph said without hesitation, "Whoeva thinks that 'bout us—any of us—can go suck a—"

"Raph…," Mona said in a warning voice, although her golden brown orbs sparkled with humor and her arms rose to his shoulders and affectionately wrapped around his neck.

"…Pickle," He scrunched up his nose at the abrupt change of words, "Anywayz, ya shouldn't worry 'bout what people are gonna think of ya. Not everyone's gotta like us and if some dumb little kid says somethin' nasty ta ya, just fail their sorry little ass. Simple."

"That's horrible," She tried to sound serious but it came out in a series of giggles, "Have you no shame?"

"Nope. None whatsoeva," Raphael grinned ruefully before he swiftly leaned down to place a chaste kiss on her smiling lips, "And don't get so worked up ova this. You'll be fine, babe."

"I hope so," She grumbled out, reaching up on her tippy toes to kiss the terrapin a bit more fully…

…but then she abruptly pulled away soon after, "But enough of the lovey dovey-ness. I'm gonna be late!"

Raphael laughed, withdrawing his arms from around her waist so that she could attack her closet once more, "Sure, sure. Knock 'em dead."

* * *

"Whoa, _whoa_, _**whoa**_," Mikey said, held up one of his hands, thrusting its open palm lightly in his brainy brother's direction with each spoken syllable. He regarded his brother for a brief second, taking in his appearance as he entered the kitchen. His already wide baby blue eyes grew larger with each passing millisecond, as if he were watching some sort of once in a lifetime spectacle evolving and unfolding right before his very eyes.

Donatello leaned his shell against the kitchen counter casually, looking at his younger brother with an expression of mild offense and frustration. The expression would have caused the gaping, orange clad turtle to feel some semblance of shame for staring so openly at his older sibling… had it not been for the darker shade of green that was currently dusted over Donnie's jade colored cheeks.

"Duuude…" Michelangelo drew out, still staring rather rudely.

Donatello sucked his teeth, glaring daggers at Mikey, "W-what? Are your eyes glued open or something?"

"I didn't even know you _owned_ clothing like that," Michelangelo said, his lips swiftly curved into a boyish grin as he looked over the black, pinstriped suit that Donnie was currently wearing. The intellectual turtle had it all: the jacket, the vest, the arrow collar button up… he was even wearing the standard black polished shoes. Usually, Donatello didn't really care much about what he wore; his usual ensemble consisted of a dark colored pullover or turtleneck, a pair of loose fitting slacks and slip-on shoes. As far as Mikey was concerned, Don wearing professional clothing of any kind was a bit ridiculous.

"Shut up," Donatello grumbled out, self-consciously adjusting the dark purple tie that hung firmly around his neck, "This isn't my suit. I rented it."

Mike raised an eye ridge at Don after fully walking into the room. He flipped one of the chairs at the kitchen table around so that he could sit backwards in it, crossing his arms over the back of it, "_You_ rented it?"

Don's blush immediately grew darker in color—a clear indication that he was lying, "W-well… _I_ didn't rent the suit but it was intended for me to wear today. That's all you need to know."

Mike tried to stifle his guffaw; Don could be too easy to read sometimes, "Ooooh, she _so_ has the hots for you, bro."

Donnie blinked, snorted, then turned back around, facing the cup of coffee he had been preparing just before Mikey had come into the room, "No. She's just looking out for me… and I would appreciate it if you would stop hinting towards silly romantic implications. You sound like a schoolgirl every time you do that."

Mikey released a startled breath, clutching a hand over his heart with mock hurt, "That really hurt Donnie… how could you be so cruel?"

Don rolled his eyes, lifting the mug to his lips to take a quick but generous sip, "Now you just sound like a drama queen…"

Mikey pouted at Donatello's shell, one of his eye ridges rose with slight curiosity. It was rare that Donatello got so touchy, even if it _was_ the morning, "Well _someone_ woke up in a sour mood. What crawled up your shell and died?"

Several seconds of silence passed between them before Donnie let out a sigh and turned around slowly, the cup of mocha colored goodness still held in one of his hands, "I'm sorry… I'm just a bit on edge today… and there's a reason why I'm wearing this stupid thing." Donnie's statement ended on a bitter note as he used his free hand to tug at the uncomfortable tightness that was surrounding his neck, "I have to attend a meeting… a very, _very_ important one at that."

Mikey blinked, "A meeting?"

Don nodded, "Yeah… with the company's board of directors. I've been given the duty to persuade the board that my department's current project is worthy of extra funding. If the idea, the progress for its completion, and my over all presentation are good, then my department will get all the funding it needs for this current project _and_ the project after that. If not, then it'll probably take an extra couple of months to finish… and I can't afford to waste more time then necessary on this project… so… yeah."

"… No pressure, huh?" Mikey offered, his boyish, aqua green face shifted into an expression of sympathy. He knew that the brainy turtle had a tough job but _damn_.

Donatello smiled weakly back at him, "Yeah… no pressure." It was a sarcastic answer but far less bitter then it had been before. Michelangelo smiled as his job as mood-lightener had been fulfilled, "If this all works out, then things will be a lot easier for us."

Michelangelo was a bit baffled by that response, "… What do you mean?"

"Living expenses," was Donatello's only reply to that question. Even so, it was enough for Mikey to get a grip onto what his brother was hinting.

"Donnie, life is as easy as it can be for us right now. We live in this awesome apartment, we have food and supplies… we're living _topside_. That's all thanks to you, bro."

"Yeah, but…"

"No buts!" Mikey said suddenly, thrusting one of his hands in Donatello's direction, wagging one of his broad, green fingers at the other like a parent would to a child. Donnie started back, wide-eyed, blinking with bewilderment at his brother's sudden outburst, "You've done enough, man. Whether this meeting is in the bag or not, we'll still be okay. Besides, everyone living here is doing all they can to help out with the rent and stuff… well, except for lil' Doe. You shouldn't worry so much. The worst that could possibly happen is moving back to our old home… and how the hell is that bad, anyway? We'd be living rent free, so if this topside thing doesn't work, it's no sweat."

Donatello sighed, taking a long sip from his mug before he replied, "I guess…"

Michelangelo did not like that response. He didn't like how the purple wearing turtle had always seemed to carry the world's problems on his shoulders… and even more now since… well… since Leo's passing. It was like Donatello lived for his family and **only** for his family. He worked insane amounts of hours as a scientist at a prestigious lab. He worked hard to keep their new home running technologically smooth and the old home as well. On top of that, he led their nightly patrols as their leader. It was almost like he never did anything for himself… no, correction; he _didn't_ do anything for himself. The only time Donnie ever seemed to have time for himself was when he slept.

Mikey frowned, tilting his head slightly, '…_What are you trying to prove, bro?_'

As Donatello finished drinking the rest of his coffee and reached to place his empty mug into the nearby sink, he noticed that Mike's big blue eyes were regarding him with concern and mild remorse. Donnie stared back at his brother, still holding his cup over the threatening depths of the soapy waters below, "…What?"

Mikey opened his mouth to respond, closed it and then, finally, sighed, "It's nothing…"

* * *

(1) …"_Then you're gonna _love_ me…_" : I got this line from the movie "The Dark Knight" (sweatdrop)

A/N: Boy that took longer than I thought it would (Wipes sweat from her brow). Sorry if this is an uneventful chapter but the one after will have a bit more going on in it, I promise : D!~ I hope you liked this one though.

So the nameless mutant finally has a name! … but he's still somewhat of a mystery, huh XD? Oh I love mysterious characters~ they make stories so flippin' _juicy!_~

Stay tuned for the next chapter everyone (grins)


	5. Familiarity

**A/N:** Sorry for the late update people –sweatdrop- Hope I didn't have you guys waiting to long.

Thank you too all those who are reading and, hopefully, enjoying this story; I hope you like this installment and let me know what you think.

Also, a personal thank you to M.D. Owen, for beta-reading this chapter. You go girl : D!

So, without further delay, here is Chapter 4~

* * *

**Life Breathing**

**Chapter 4 Familiarity**

_**September 2nd 2014**_

_10:23 am; Hamato Residence_

Raphael's amber eyes slowly opened to a room that was lit purely by blanketed sunlight, his consciousness gradually coming back to fruition after something foreign had brought himself out of a dreamless sleep. He had gone to sleep right after Mona left, hoping to get some more rest in before he had to open up the dojo for his first ninjutsu class for the day; unfortunately, those hopes were crushed. It took him a moment to wonder what had woken him up in the first place but it didn't take long when he felt the pressure of a little body curl up against his plastron. He blinked multiple times before curiously peering down, slowly lifting the thin layer of blankets surrounding him to find his daughter curled up tightly in a little ball, snuggling unconsciously into him.

"…Doe?" Raphael started, his voice still deep from sleep. He had to admit: he was a bit surprised that he hadn't woken up sooner. Despite what people believed—supposedly because of his chainsaw-like snoring—he was a very light sleeper, just like the rest of his brothers were. The fact that his three year old daughter—soon to be four years old—was able to sneak into the room and curl up beside him without waking him was… kind of impressive; Raph supposed that 'ninja' just ran in the family (_Raph: My girl…-grin-_), "Baby doll? Ya okay?"

"…No," came her weak reply as her tiny body curled up even tighter, her chin tucked in and her face touching her knees. She appeared to be trembling but only a little.

"Whazzamatta?" Raph dropped his arm so that he could stroke the back of Dorothy's head, lightly ruffling her chestnut brown hair, "Yah had a bad dream?"

After a few seconds of silence, the little hybrid nodded, the tips of her dark bangs brushed against Raph's collarbone. His eyes softened at the confirmation as he sat up in bed, swiftly scooping his daughter up so that her small frame could rested on top of his knees. She remained concealed, hiding her face to the best of her ability but Raph knew that she would unravel herself the more he talked to her. That's how he always calmed Doe down whenever she was scared or stubborn."Yah gonna tell me what it was about or do I have ta flip ya upside down and shake the answers outta ya?"

Dorothy released a cute combination between a giggle and a sniffle but didn't move otherwise, "I… I saw a monster."

He should have seen that one coming; a monster from the corners of a child's imagination _could_ be a really scary thing… even to adults. He found it weird, however, because his Doe had never been afraid of the monsters from her dreams. She would just tell him that when the monster tried to gobble her up, dream-Raphael would step in and clobber it into extinction. It was either that, or she, herself, would beat the snot out of the thing. That version always made him chuckle; he couldn't imagine his sweet little girl clobbering anything that was ten times her size.

This monster, however, was different. It had been scary enough to rattle his little warrior in training.

"What kinda monsta?"

"I-it was big and… and it had red eyes," As she began to talked, her body slowly began to unclench itself, "And it had a huge claw for a hand… and… and…"

"And?" Raph coaxed, his interest in this so-called monster peeked—why did it sound so familiar to him?

"And…" She paused for a second, slowly lifting her head so that her golden eyes could look up at her father, "It… it put Uncle Leo to sleep."

… Well **that** explained the familiarity…

"I… I tried to save 'em daddy," She said miserably, her body slowly unwinding, starting from her emerald green tail, "I tried to wake 'em… but I couldn't. I couldn't do anything, daddy."

… That sounded familiar as well. How could it not? He had said the same exact words to his brothers when they found him… with a lifeless Leonardo in his arms. Raphael's body had been trembling, his eyes were leaking soundless tears, and his hands had been covered with Leo's blood. Raph had attempted to resuscitate his older brother several times, telling himself over and over again that Leo wasn't dead yet and that there was still a chance. He had breathed life into his brother's body and pumped it back out for a total of twenty five minutes before he realized it was pointless. Even though Leo's lips had gone cold and the blood from his wounds had stopped flowing, Raph continued to try until realization hit him hard in the face.

His brother was dead; there was nothing he could do about it… and it was all _his_ fault.

Before Raph could get caught up in his guilty thoughts, he cleared his voice and focused once again on his daughter, "Its okay, Doe. It was just a dream."

"B-but," She started, two of her tiny hands clung onto one of his large ones, as if for reassurance, "It… it felt real…"

Raph smiled softly down at his offspring, his free hand smoothed over her head once again before he leaned down and pressing a kiss to her forehead, "It was only a dream. It _wasn't_ real, baby doll…"

'…_For you at least…' _Raphael's consciousness whispered to him as he continued to console his shaken daughter.

* * *

_11:12 am; 34__th__ Precinct, Manhattan_

"I didn't do it! I barely even _**touched**_ that girl! This is nothing but a set up! You hear me? _A set up_! I—"

A large fist came down hard on the solid metal surface of the interrogation table, startling the ranting criminal into abrupt silence. The owner of said hand, a police officer who had been the one on the scene and who had been the one to take the offender into custody, glared mercilessly down at the fettered offender, "Shuddap, ya scumbag! Besides, we both know that's a lie; why waste yer breath?"

The prisoner regained his courage, growling audibly before he verbally lashed out at the officer once more, "I didn't touch the girl! She came onto me. All I was did was returning the favor."

"Tch, yeah. Right. So she was just _beggin'_ ya ta slap her around, rip her blouse ta shreds, and pull a knife on her, huh?" The officer proclaimed sarcastically, leaning his body against the opposite end of the table. He placed both of his fists on top of the interrogation table's cool surface as a means to prop himself up, "Man, ya _sure_ know how ta show a girl a good time."

"Hey, I don't need to take this!"

"Nah, ya gonna take _everythin'_ I'm dishin' out at ya!" The officer aggressively pointed towards the offender's face, his own façade shifted into a deep scowl, "'Cause ya ain't goin' _nowhere,_ pal! Ya don't _need_ ta confess ta me; we've got all the evidence we need ta put ya away on sexual assault charges so just relax 'til someone takes yer sorry ass down ta holding."

"What?" The man flabbergasted; he was sure that they would at least give him some slack. It wasn't like he went around, attacking every girl that he saw. It was just that one girl and that one time; he was unable to control himself or his urges to have her, "B-but—!"

"Shut it," The officer grumbled, standing up straight while simultaneously crossing his large, muscular arms over his chest, "Ya goin' away no matta how ya look at it…"

"Jones?"

Casey Jones, one of the newest detectives in the 34th precinct, turned at the sound of his name being called from the doorway, diverting his attention away from the prick that was cuffed to the table before him. A man who appeared to be in his late twenties to earlier thirties—his partner, Aaron Knox—stood at the room's entrance, resting his shoulder casually against the door frame as he looked back at Casey with amusement. He had expected Jones to be here; even though it wasn't his job to be verbally abusive to suspects—or to be in the room, actually—it was one of the first places one would look to find the hot-blooded rookie of a detective.

"Hey Knox," Casey said back, his crawling scowl disappearing, "What's up?"

Aaron shook his head at the other, smirking slightly to himself, "What's up? Nothin'; what are _you_ doing in _here_, huh? This case is already over and done with so stop _detecting_ already, rookie."

"Tch. This guy had it comin'," Casey said in a way that resembled pride, flicking his thumb over his nose while his chest puffed out, "Somebody needs ta give 'em an ear-full."

Aaron rolled his eyes, holding a case file out for the other to take, "And it ain't going to be you. Now get your ass out of here. You have to take the victim's statement so that we can file this away."

Casey's scowl was back, momentarily turning back to the _almost_-rapist to send him an intimidating gaze before he stormed out of the room. As he passed his partner, Casey snatched the paperwork out of Aaron's outstretched hand before he made his way down the hallway towards the witness holding room. He had remembered taking not only the offender in but the woman who had been assaulted by the guy. She didn't want to go home; she had been too shaken to go home by herself, even if Casey had offered her a ride to his apartment complex. That… and she seemed determined to provide as much information as possible in order to put the nasty, sleazy son of a bitch away, even if it was only going to be a maximum sentence of no more than five years. Casey had to admit: the woman was a fighter, just like his wife. This fact caused his lips the spread into a quick, wide grin of recollection.

When the raven haired rookie approached the room where the _almost_-victim resided and opened the door, he was surprised to see the woman pacing across the floor aggressively, all but storming around the room. Her eyes were narrow and crinkled with repressed anger and her arms were crossed over her chest. Her form was all but swimming in a large, black jacket that appeared to be two times bigger than her actual size. Casey absently wondered where she could have gotten the jacket from but pushed it away as he closed the door behind him, clearing his throat to get the woman's attention. She automatically stopped her rapid pacing and turned her head to look at him, her face softening only a little.

"Is that bastard going away?" She asked, her voice dripping with disgust and a slight hint of anxiety.

Casey nodded, walking further into the room and taking a seat in a near by chair; the woman swiftly followed suit and took a seat two chairs away, "Yeah, we've got enough on 'em so there's no way he's gonna walk."

She nodded, releasing a sigh of relief as the tension rolled off her body in waves. Her arms slowly uncrossed themselves, opting to rest in her lap instead, "Good…"

"I've got a couple-a questions ta ask ya though," Casey explained, crossing his legs to prop the file up on his lap as a makeshift writing platform, "I gotta get yer statement before we close this thing."

She dipped her chin, "Okay."

"Alrighty then," He sighed out, flipping the file open and reading off the standard questions printed before him, "How did yer attacker approach ya?"

"Well…," She started, self-consciously adjusting her ripped and tattered blouse before she pulled the large jacket closed, "I had been walking home from work, since I didn't have the money for a cab, when this guy stepped in my way. I thought he was just some guy getting ready to drop some cheesy, pick up line but then he tried to grab my arm and I pulled away. Then he grabbed me by my shirt and pulled me into a nearby alleyway."

Casey wrote down what she had said as quickly and as accurately as possible. He continued, reading off the paper, "Other than touchin' ya, did he do anythin' else that was sexually aggressive?"

"No… thank God," She said, placing a hand over her chest, as if she were physically trying to slow down her racing heart, "He had just pulled a knife on me when that mutant came and knocked him out."

"…," Casey paused in writing, looking up from the paper work to the mildly anxious woman once again, "Say what now?"

"Oh, yeah," She said with recollection, her eyes lifted to the ceiling as she spoke, "This mutant came out of no where and pretty much knocked the bastard out in one blow. He just… appeared out of _nowhere_."

Casey raised an eyebrow, "Really now?"

"Yeah," She piped up, her eyes locked onto Casey's dark brown eyes once more, "I didn't even know he was a mutant until he gave me this jacket." She lifted her arm as if to show off the gigantic outerwear.

"… How did ya know he was a mutant when he did that?" He blinked with bewilderment.

"Well… I thought that he was wearing a backpack or something," She gestured to her own back to emphasis her point, "But then when he took his jacket off so that I could cover myself with it, I saw that it was a—"

"_Shell_…" Casey finished in a harsh whisper, resisting the urge to lift and flail his arms upward in an exasperated fashion. He thought he had told the Hamato brothers to be careful whenever they were on their nightly patrols. Now that mutants were out in the open, they couldn't afford to have anyone positively identify them. He might have played vigilante with the turtles before he decided to trade in his hockey mask for a badge but he knew—and _they_ knew—that if he ever caught them in their act, he would have to report them.

"Yeah," She said, tilting her head to the side with interest, "How did you know?"

'…_Crap'_ "Uhhh, l-lucky guess?" He stated quickly before clearing his throat, swiftly continuing before she began to question _him_ instead, "A-anywayz, d-did this guy say anythin' to ya?"

She nodded, "Sure did. He was a sweetheart, really. He consoled me and stayed with me until the cops came." She frowned, using one of her fingers to tap on her bottom lip, "I was going to thank him when the police arrived but when they got there, he vanished; just like _that_!" She snapped her fingers to punctuate her sentence further, "It was almost as if—"

"He was neva there?" Casey answered, stiffening the minute the words left his mouth; he really needed to learn how to shut up sometimes...

She blinked at him, startled once again, "Yeah… how did you know I was going to—?"

Casey abruptly stood up, gathering up the paperwork in his lap as quickly as possible, "Well I think that's 'bout it, ma'am."

"W-wait, I—"

"Do ya need someone ta drop ya off or somethin'?" He asked frantically, smiling at the woman stiffly.

"Y-yes but I—"

"Oki doki! That won't be a problem ma'am. Ya just wait right here until I get this papah work filed so that one of the precincts officers can give ya a lift. Ya want some coffee or tea while ya wait?"

"No, that's fine but—"

"_**Oki doki**_! Sit tight then, alright?" And with that Casey quickly make his exit, leaving the woman baffled and alone.

* * *

_11:48 am; __**Universal Dynamics**__, Manhattan_ (1)

"Ah, good afternoon Mr. Hamato. I didn't know you had work today."

Donatello turned his head to the front desk security guard as he entered the building. His usual stoic expression turned into a friendly one and his determined saunter stopped before the desk so that he could properly return the greeting, "Hello, Mr. Jameson and no, I don't. I have a meeting with the board."

The security guard, an older gentleman whose once youthful, jet black hair was now dusted with specks of grey, blinked back at the terrapin with surprise, "Really?"

Donnie smiled sheepishly, shrugging one of his shoulders, "Yeah. The CEO wants me to present the data of my department's latest project so that we'll have a winning chance at getting extra funding. Apparently, she thinks that it's something that is worth the money."

"Oh? Heh, no wonder you look so sharp today," The older of the two stated, leaning forward slightly as if the two had suddenly got themselves into a private conversation, "So uh… what _is_ the project anyway? An advancement in medical science? A robotic marvel maybe?"

Donnie chuckled, stepping back slightly before pressing a single finger to his jade colored lips, "That's top secret information, I'm afraid. The only ones who are supposed to know are the people from my department, the board of directors, and the CEO herself."

The security guard childishly pouted, his upper lip disappeared further behind his salt and pepper mustache, "That's not fair, Mr. Hamato. How am I supposed to guard a building when I don't even know what's being held inside?"

Donatello laughed, shaking his head, "Sorry, it's company policy. If I told you, I'd lose my job. You know that."

The man grinned, "I highly doubt _that_. After all, you _are _the CEO's favorite employee. Hehe... am I right or am I _right_?" (_**Insert eyebrow wiggle right here XD**_)

Donnie's face scrunched up in response, his shoulders slumping forward slightly as he let out a quiet groan, "Ugh, not you too…" How many people were going to continue to pick on him about that? Where did it come from, anyway?

He laughed at the turtle's expression, waving his hand dismissively, "She wouldn't fire you. She'd just give you a slap on the a-…I mean _wrist_—" Donnie glared half-heartedly at the intentional mistake—"And send you on your merry way."

"… Goodbye, Mr. Jameson," Donnie said dully before he walked past the desk in order to get to the elevators, successfully ignoring the man's stifled guffaw. He didn't have to wait long for an elevator and he was even happier to find that said elevator was empty. Once the doors were closed, he quickly pressed the floor button where the CEO's office and the board's meeting rooms resided. Just as he did, a smooth, robotic voice filled the small confines.

"**In order for you to access this floor, please state your name as clearly as possible so that I may match your voice-print to Universal Dynamics' employee database.**"

"Donatello Hamato."

"…**Please hold…**," Donnie sighed, lightly tapping his foot on the metallic surface of the elevator floor, "…**Welcome, Mr. Hamato. Have a wonderful day and thank you for your patience.**"

And with that, the elevator began to move and Donatello sighed, his mind quickly opting to distract himself from the flashing, rising numbers of each floor by going over his presentation in his head. He knew that his department's project—which he had been working on himself, at first—would be intriguing enough to appeal to the boards over all interest but… would they be interested enough to provide him with the necessary funding to finish it?

He had started the project in hopes that he would be able to help others... so wouldn't the board take that into consideration as well? Wouldn't they want to promote something that would be guaranteed to help people? Hm… there was also the fact that he didn't have a standard education. He didn't go to high school, college, or graduate school, something that most of the scientists of UD had to go through. Would they think that he was unreliable if they couldn't even track his background? They wouldn't be lenient enough to understand that he had to remain in hiding for a great deal of his life, would they?

He sighed, pinched the bridge of his snout between his thumb and index finger in order to alleviate the pressure that was beginning to build up in his head. He was worrying too much; he was going to make himself sick if he kept dwelling in such a negative light. He knew that they would look at the positives as well. After only being with UD for two—almost three—years, he had been promoted a total of three times, starting out as a mere scientist and ending as the chief of his own department. That, alone, should give him some leeway…

He blinked in surprise when the elevator slid to a comfortable halt at level thirty-three, thirty floors below his intended stop. He cursed silently under his breath; he was hoping that the elevator wouldn't have to stop to pick other people up but, supposedly, there was no such luck. Ah well… he just hoped that there wasn't a crowd or something. He hated crowded elevators—it made him antsy.

When the doors slid open, Donatello's eyes slightly widened when he recognized the woman who was getting ready to board. Of course; how couldn't he? She was the reason why he had a job—a very prestigious one at that—in the first place. She was the one that had sought him out, personally, just to _offer_ him the job. Who could this be, you ask? Lara Sampson, the CEO of UD.

Lara blinked her hazel eyes back at the terrapin with mild surprise before her expression relaxed, offering Donnie a friendly smile as she stepped in and stood beside him, "Oh, hello, Donatello. I didn't expect to see you until the meeting."

As the doors closed once again, Donnie replied with a smile, "Yeah… I didn't expect to see you so soon either, Ms. Sampson. I was working the presentation out in my mind just before you came on."

She sighed, scrunching up her nose playfully, "I told you to call me Lara… _how_ many times now?"

"A-ah," Donnie stated nervously, fiddling with the cuff links at his wrist, "Sorry about that. I'm just so used to addressing my superiors in a formal manner."

She raised an eyebrow at him, "Well you don't have to do that around me… besides, it makes me sound old or uptight."

He chuckled, "Sure thing Ms.—uhh—Lara."

She smiled brightly, linking her fingers behind her back, "That's better. So, are you nervous?"

"… Honestly? Yes, very much," He couldn't help but tell the truth. He wore his expressions and feelings on his sleeve. Even if he tried to lie about how he felt, he would most likely fail on an epic scale. "What if they don't feel it's worthy of their time?"

She placed her hands on her hips, tilting them in a manner that reminded him of a mother that was getting ready to reprimand her child, "I highly doubt that. Your department's project has the most promise, as far as I can see anyway. Plus, it's the only project that's anywhere near finished; that alone should give you some major brownie points."

'…_Brownie points?_' He thought internally giggling at her terminology. She was probably one of the only CEOs he ever had the opportunity of meeting and speaking to on a personal level… but he was pretty sure that none of them use phrases as youthful or as quirky as 'brownie points.' But, then again, she was relatively young for a CEO. He had never asked her directly what her age was but he had gathered that she was probably in her mid to late twenties. That wasn't the stereotypical age of most CEOs; they were usually as young as forty of fifty… or at least that's what he had been able to gather from all the business articles he had read over the years.

So, in other words: Lara = One of a Kind.

"And you have to admit," she continued, her smile spreading further to flash her teeth, "Medical Nanotechnology _is_ on the intriguing side. I doubt that they would simply overlook or dismiss it."

"That is true… but—"

"No buts!" She said, only slightly raising her voice, wagging one of her manicured fingers at him, "You'll be fine. Stop worrying so much."

Donnie stared at the finger for a moment, feeling a sudden sense of déjà vu at the wagging digit (2), before he smiled sheepishly at her, "I… I can't help it."

"Well you're going to have to learn to overcome that, Donnie-boy," She said with a friendly wink, "Or else the business world will eat you alive."

He sighed, slumping his shoulders at her words, "Good point…"

Just as Lara opened her mouth to reply back, the elevator doors opened again; this time, they were on the desired floor. She swallowed her words and, instead, smiled reassuringly at the brainy terrapin, "You'll do fine, Donatello. Just do your best."

He nodded, taking a deep breath before he stepped off the elevator after her.

* * *

(1)Universal Dynamics- I got this title from the TV show "Fringe"; there is a research facility that is named "Massive Dynamics" that specializing in many areas, such as robotics, weapons testing, medical science and so on. UD does the same thing; I couldn't think of another name -sweatdrop-.

(2) Michelangelo did the same thing to Donatello hour before (In Chapter 3 XD)

* * *

**A/N**: I had a bit of trouble on this chapter so… I apologize for the late update. I didn't mean to take my sweet old time but I had to squeeze the creative juices out of me and I kept on getting distracted. Sorry again. I hope you liked this chapter and please stay tuned for the next chapter. I think I'll have fun writing it and I hope you guys like it –grins-.

Update: Chapter 6 should be coming sometime this week so hold tight (smile). Also, I just edited this over again, just to clean it up a little bit. See you soon~


	6. Meet n' Greet

_**Before I get on with this chapter, I would like to provide a quick thank you to**__** M.D. Owen**_**aka**_**Mindychan**_**aka**_** mindymouse**__** for beta reading this chapter so wonderfully. Thank you lady (hugs)**_

_**

* * *

**_

**Life Breathing**

**Meet and Greet**

_**September 5**__**th**__** 2014**_

_9:12 am; Morning Glory Preschool_

"Well, hello there."

Dorothy timidly glanced up at the owner of the charmingly sweet voice, taken aback by the tall woman that had been standing patiently at the classroom's door. The woman smiled down at the small mutant hybrid and, in response, Dorothy shrunk back slightly, gripping her kiddy sized backpack to her chest as if it were her lifeline. She wasn't really used to human adults talking to her; the only ones that she had ever talked to was Mr. and Mrs. Jones and that was only because they were long term family friends.

The woman's smile faltered slightly at the little mutant girl's reaction, exchanging her smile of greeting for a look of reassurance as the woman extended her hand for a handshake, "Oh, don't be afraid, honey. I'm your preschool teacher, Ms. Robin."

Dorothy blinked up at the woman, quickly remembering what her parents had told her yesterday while they were picking up school supplies. She didn't know why she had to go to this place called 'pre-school' but if she was going to learn new things and make friends that were _her_ age, for a change, then she was willing to deal with this tall, unnervingly saccharine human… albeit reluctantly.

Dorothy nodded stiffly but didn't take the woman's hand. For some reason, Doe didn't really like the woman. Something about the way she smiled at Doe didn't seem very truthful. Compared to the way Mrs. Jones(1) smiled at her, Ms. Robin's smile seemed… forced. "It's nice to meet you, Ms. Robin. I'm Dorothy."

Ms. Robin smiled down at the mutant hybrid as she pulled her hand back to her side, "It's very nice to meet you Dorothy. Please go on in and have a seat at one of the tables. Class will be starting in a couple of minutes so just make yourself comfortable."

Doe didn't waste any time; she quickly shuffled past her teacher and into the room. Her daddy had already told her not to be bothered when someone looked at her—she should only be bothered if someone said something mean to her. She highly doubted that that would happen, though. She wasn't the only mutant child in the room and she didn't really have to worry too much about the human children; for some odd reason, they thought that she was _cool_… she didn't know why but they just did (Dorothy: -shrug-).

What she found odd, however, was the fact that there were seven different tables to sit at… but everyone was trying their hardest to squeeze availability into six of the tables. For a second, she thought that her fellow classmates lacked common sense but then she noticed a single mutant child sitting at the last table. She blinked at him, taking in his crestfallen posture and dejected eyes with curiosity. He wasn't looking at her—it appeared that he was focusing as hard as he could on the tabletop's surface so that he wouldn't have to look up. She glanced back at the other kids momentarily—some of them were looking at the quiet, mutant boy with concern and fear and others were looking at her, wondering what she would do next.

After a full contemplative moment, Dorothy moved around the first barricade of students and chose to sit beside the lonely mutant boy. She glared back at her classmates, effectively motivating them to turn around and go back to doing whatever it is they were doing.

It wasn't like she couldn't see why they were afraid: the boy, being an anthropomorphic white tiger, did look rather intimidating at first glance. Especially since he looked like a cat that was backed into a corner—defensive and stiff with claws slightly drawn as his paws clasped tightly together with nervousness. He had provided her a timid, uncertain glance when she had boldly taken her seat beside him, giving her the briefest look through his piercing, icy blue orbs; his pupils were slit with mild, tense anger.

She wanted to say something comforting to him, like Uncle Donnie would whenever she was feeling sick or down. She wanted to make him laugh and forget about his discomfort, like Uncle Mikey did whenever she cried. She wanted to defend him, like her dad did whenever a human adult looked at her the wrong way or, even, said something nasty to her. She wanted to do something to ease him… but what could she do? What could she say? It wasn't like she was an expert in making friends or anything like that.

"U-um…" Soft and barely audible, the mutant boy's voice cut through the silence around them. Dorothy turned her golden eyes to the mutant beside her, surprised that he was the first one to speak out of the two of them. His eyes, piercing in their look but innocent in their glance, locked onto hers timidly; his small paws wringed together nervously. His expression was a cross between bashfulness and slight determination as he searched his mind for the right words to say to the mutant hybrid beside him. She noticed distantly that his slit pupils had changed somewhat, becoming more rotund as he struggled to find his words. She tilted her head curiously as a cue for him to continue.

He swallowed thickly, fidgeting a little in his seat before he continued, raising his voice so that only she could hear him clearly, "Um… I-I really like your ribbon…"

Dorothy blinked in confusion, "My… ribbon?"

He nodded, lifting his furry index finger and pointing to the satin, powder blue material that held her two little pigtails up. "Yeah… it's really p-pretty."

Dorothy grinned with understanding, "Oh, thank you. I like your ears."

It was his turn to blink in confusion; his black tipped ear wiggled slightly at the compliment before he flattened them against his skull self-consciously, "R-really?"

She nodded happily, "Uh-huh. They're cool."

His expression turned more bashful; if one could see beneath the fur on his face, they would have seen him blushing. "U-um… thank you."

She giggled lowly, "I'm Dorothy. What's your name?"

He smiled, only flashing his teeth slightly in fear of scaring her away, "G-galileo."

"Ooh, nice name," she said, her tail swishing slightly with mirth, "Can I call you Gali?"

He blushed further, fiddling with his fingers absentmindedly. Did that mean… did that mean that she would talk to him more in the future? Did it mean that she wanted to be _friends_ with him? "I-if you want… I don't mind."

She grinned fully, nodding her head eagerly just as her teacher walked into the room and officially started class.

_

* * *

_

_11:39 pm; Choco-latte Coffee Shop_

"One café mocha for ma-lady."

Emily looked up from her staff paper notebook just in time to see Michelangelo place a porcelain cup down on the table top before her. She watched him sit down beside her as she gratefully smiled back at him for going up to the register to retrieve her drink. She had been so wrapped up with creating a new song for LNPD(2) that she didn't seem to register what was going on around her for the moment. Oh well… she was almost done with the piece anyway; just a few more stanzas and she could quiet the musical muse that resided in her consciousness… temporarily, of course.

Emily quickly noticed that Mikey didn't have a drink with him; she sent him a questioning gaze which he answered immediately, "Not feeling the hot chocolate today. All I'm craving right now is a slice of Sicilian pizza."

Emily nodded with understanding, giggling at her boyfriend's justification. Mikey smiled at the cuteness of the sound—even when he wasn't dating her, he loved to hear her laugh. He often wondered how someone's voice alone could be so sweet and pleasant to the ears… and she barely even spoke! In a way, that seemed to make hearing her speak all the more enjoyable; he cherished ever little word and sound her voice created.

"So what's the plan for today?" Mikey said, unable to repress the stupid grin that stretched across his face.

She hummed quietly, her eyes wondering up and to the right in thought, "… Is there band practice?"

"No, thank goodness." He sighed, "I think the next time we go for practice is next week Tuesday… so we can… hmm?" Michelangelo stopped talking, as if he had just noticed something about the little woman that was sitting beside him now. He peered closely into Emily's face, leaning in until his nose was almost touching hers. She blinked back at him in confusion, questions shouting volumes in her eyes, "… Did you sleep last night?" Mikey couldn't help but notice that the petite red head seemed to be a bit paler than usual. Not only that but she was wearing quite a bit of eye makeup—a valiant effort to mask the bags of sleeplessness that had formed underneath her eyes.

Emily tried to prevent the expression of sheepishness that was swiftly beginning to flood into her face but, alas, she failed. The only thing she could do, as an attempt to hide the truth, was shift her gaze quickly to one of the café's nearby window, looking at the glass rather than through it. Mikey sighed; Emily was far easier to read than Donnie was…but, then again, he _had_ to be able to read her or else he'd hardly be able to communicate with her at all.

"_Emily_," Mikey groaned out, drawing her attention back to him, "I thought you said you weren't going to do any more all-nighters. You got yourself sick the last time you did that."

She frowned, her lower lip pouting out slightly, "I couldn't help it."

"… Are you having nightmares again?"

It took her a moment to respond; her eyes stared down at her coffee beverage for several contemplative seconds before she spoke again, "… Maybe."

Mike chuckled at her hesitant reply, already knowing that it was a confirmation rather than an avoidance maneuver. He reassuringly smiled at her, one of his hands reached over to tenderly grip hers, "Dudette, I told you to call me if you ever had one again. I would've came over and kept you company. Heck, we could have watched Adult Swim in all of its random glory until we fell asleep to Robot Chicken (3)."

Emily giggled again, shaking her head at her boyfriend. That was another thing she liked about Mikey: his sense of humor; not only did he know how to make people laugh but he knew _when_ to make people laugh. She didn't think there was a time that he had ever inappropriately cracked a joke. He used his powers of humor for laughter and healing, not to raise anger or offense.

"But seriously," he continued with a reassuring smile on his face, "Call me next time?"

She gave him a hesitant smile before she nodded.

"You promise?' he double checked.

She nodded, using her other hand to cross her heart fluidly. He flashed his signature boyish grin, convinced that she was telling the truth. "Good. Now, how's the song coming along?"

"Hmm…," she hummed quietly, politely withdrawing her hand from Mikey's grip to retrieving her forgotten pencil on top of the table, "Almost done…"

"Sweeeeeet… can I read it?"

"No." she said it almost immediately, a challenging smile spread across her lips as she read over the musical notes and song lyrics she just recently added to her compositional piece.

"Aww, come on, Little Red," Mike pouted, doing his best impression of a stranded puppy, begging to be held, "Just a peek? Pleeeease?"

She waved the index finger of her free hand at him, a simple gesture to let him know that it wasn't happening. He sighed in defeat, slumping in his chair, opting to watch his girlfriend as she continued with her task. He knew better than to interrupt her when her creative juices were flowing. It was like trying to interrupt Donnie while he was in the middle of a project—it was impossible and/or dangerous to even try. Though he highly doubted that Em would try to physically remove him or kick him out of his chair, one couldn't be too careful.

He liked to watch her expressions and actions as she went through the lyrical writing process. When she was irritated by the way something sounded, her lips would purse, her eyes would narrow, and one of her delicate red eyebrows would rise in frustration as her pencil tapped the beat of the difficult section. When she was stricken with the perfect sounds or words for the piece, her eyes would brighten with a mental 'eureka' and a tiny smile would unconsciously curl upon her lips.

… Lips that he had yet to kiss…

His smile faltered only slightly as the idea slipped stealthily into his consciousness. He had remembered the first time he tried to kiss her. It had been a week after they had officially gotten together and he wanted to give her a quick, chaste kiss of greeting; the moment was right, the timing was great, and the place was perfect for their first kiss. He was going for the gold… but then her hand came up, covering his mouth with her fingertips and effectively stopping his movements. When he gave her a wide eyed look of confusion, she spoke—it was one of the only times she had spoken a full sentence since he had known her.

"_I'm sorry Mikey but I cannot kiss you… not yet, anyway,"_ was what she had said, giving him an apologetic kiss on the cheek. He didn't know whether to be hurt, offended, or confused by her reaction. At first, he thought that she didn't want to kiss him because he was a mutant; he thought that, perhaps, she didn't want to get too involved with someone of his kind.

He had expressed his worries to her. In response, she flicked his nose, her eyes glaring halfheartedly at the terrapin with mild offense. _**Translation: Don't be stupid…**_**(or)**_** Are you seriously asking me that?**_

Soon after, his worries evaporated only to be replaced with sheer confusion and curiosity. When he asked her what the reason was, she told him that she was uncomfortable with telling him that information. He became concerned by the brief look of pain that had crossed her features before she had said her reply but didn't push further for answers. He knew that when the time was right, she would fully open up to him. In the meantime, he would just have to deal… no matter how many times he had to catch himself from reaching over and capturing her lips with his…

Michelangelo's concentration was broken when Emily released a repressed groan of irritation; her eyes had lifted from her music sheet, opting to lightly glare at something that stood across the room, at the cafe's entrance. Before the orange loving terrapin could turn around and identify what had disturbed Emily's musical focus, a cutesy, high pitch voice slammed against his ear drums, causing his form to automatically tense. He knew that voice… all too well actually. How could he not? He had to hear that voice whine, complain, and yell at him for 8 months of his life. Not only that, but he had to hear that very same voice during every scheduled band practice, singing the lyrics to Emily's crafted songs. He didn't think that voice was worthy of his red head's music but it wasn't like he could do anything about it. He just wished that he didn't have to hear that voice _outside_ of practice. Sadly, there was no such luck.

"Mikey! What's going on babe?"

Michelangelo could hear the motion of several heads within the café turn towards the voice; he couldn't blame them—her voice was extremely hard to ignore. He had hoped that perhaps there was another mutant turtle in the vicinity that shared his name or maybe she would sense his discomfort and mind her own business. Those hopes were crushed, however, when slender, sun kissed arms wrapped around his rigid shoulders from behind. He hopelessly stared back at Emily, watching her eyes darken to a storm cloud grey. The little red head knew he couldn't just push her off—that would be rude—but that didn't mean that she had to be happy about it…

"K-Kelly?" he stuttered, turning his head to take in the beach-blonde hair and deep blue eyes of his ex-girlfriend, his expression an interesting mixture of nervousness and irritation. "W-what's going on?"

She rested her chin nonchalantly on the terrapin's shoulder, grinning back at him with a wide, chesire grin, "Weelllll~ I wanted to grab an ice latte before I met up with some of my girlfriends at the mall…but then I saw _**you**_ sitting here! I figured that I would just drop a greeting to my favorite turtle… so … hello~"

"Hi… now can you let go of me?" It was rare that Mikey got upset or irritated to the point of rude or icy responses but he couldn't help it. Kelly wasn't his favorite person in the world at the moment; he didn't exactly break up with her on friendly terms.

Kelly pouted in response, reluctantly withdrawing herself from the one-sided hug, "Aw, that was cold Mikey. Why so serious, babe?"

Emily rolled her eyes, twirling her pencil between her fingers—_**Translation: Oh I**_** wonder…**

He ignored her question. "I'm on a date right now, Kel."

Kelly blinked expressively before she turned away from Mikey to lock eyes with Emily's. "Oh! Hey, Em. You were so quiet I didn't even notice you sitting there."

Emily's eyes narrowed into slits before her lips broke into a falsely sweet smile, "Hello, Kelly."

Mikey knew that Emily wanted to say something that was a bit more… colorful but decided to be the bigger woman. Em always seemed to be that way whenever Kelly got on her nerves or said something catty or rude. It made him wonder what the little red head would be like if she had lost control and gave into her temptation of cursing out the blonde. They do say that it's the quiet ones that have the killer temper… they just know how to control themselves better.

Kelly stood up straight, placing her hands on her hips, slanting them slightly, "Well, if you guys are on a date then I won't keep you two love birds~. I have to now, anywayz. I'll check you guys later. Peace and chicken grease~"

The couple nodded in unison as the blonde sauntered away, her swaying hips and long, slender legs drawing the eyes of _almost_ every guy in the room; Mikey hadn't bother to watch her as she went to order her drink. Besides, he was here with Emily, not his past love interest.

Emily visibly relaxed as the tall blonde strode away, her poor pencil strangled in the tight grip she didn't even know she had been exerting on it upon Kelly's entrance. She turned a bashful, apologetic glance to her boyfriend, using her free hand to scratch at the back of her neck—a sheepish gesture. Michelangelo waved a dismissive hand, smiling reassuringly at her as his own form began to relax at his ex's departure. "It's alright, Em. You aren't the only one that feels that way."

Emily nodded in agreement, throwing a quick, disgruntled look over her shoulder at Kelly's waiting form on the ordering line. She turned back to face Mikey, her nose wrinkled slightly with distaste, "Bitch…"

Michelangelo couldn't help but release a hearty guffaw, his body suddenly trembling with laughter.

Ah… that was Emily Hopkins for you.

* * *

_1:52 pm; Central Park- The Mall (4)_

Splinter sighed with contentment as he walked down the wide, moderately crowded pathway before him, his walking stick tapping lightly and methodically against the dark pavement with every other step he took. He would get stares from here and there—some were fearful or appalled, others were curious and filled with wonderment—but it didn't bother him too much; he was too busy enjoying the moment, listening to the gentle, distance murmurs of a living and thriving city.

Although fall was slowly approaching, none of the trees that rose and canopied over the long, stretched pathway had began to transform. The summer sun was still beating down upon the city with a stubborn vengeance and most people were still trying to find cool refuge wherever it was available. Luckily, the park's thick, green foilage was strong enough to block out some of the menacing rays. That was one of the reasons why the old rat was here in the first place. Not only was all of his favorite soap operas off for the day, he was in desperate need of some fresh air. As much as he loved the air conditioning at a time like this, the natural cooling atmosphere he was currently walking through was far more relaxing at the moment.

Splinter inhaled the warm, botanical air that surrounded him, enjoying the sun that showered down upon his back and how simple life seemed to be. After all, he wasn't able to walk around like this a few years back, nor were others of his kind. He didn't have the luxury of enjoying fresh air like he was right now and he didn't have the freedom—or the choice—of walking outside in broad daylight either. Now he did—him, his sons, and his granddaughter all had the freedom to be see without fear.

All but one…

His cane's repetitious '_clicking_' against the floor stopped as he halted in his steps, his serene expression became mildly melancholic as his mind drifted to his eldest son—the one and only thing missing in his and his families' lives that would have made the joys of this new world complete.

"Leonardo…" he breathed the name out, mentally deeming that he should take a break as he moved over towards a nearby, unoccupied bench to take a seat. He was a bit surprised to find himself thinking of his departed son more and more these days and he couldn't quite fathom why. Of course, he could never forget his eldest son or stop thinking about him, no matter how many years had past since he had been put to rest. Even so, the blue clad ninja had been on the wise rat's mind more often than usual.

… Also, what Donatello had him told a couple of days ago didn't help all that much either. If anything, it was unnerving:_** "…He was giving off all the signs of a possible suicide victim… but it wasn't a suicide. He had been**_** murdered**_**… and he had been acting as if he knew he was going to die."**_(5)

A shiver ran up Splinter's spine at the memory, his tail curling in sensation. As Splinter had told to Donatello, he wouldn't have been surprised if Leonardo had a feeling about his impending death… but actually _knowing_ that he was going to die? That was a bit of a stretch.

…But his blue clad son _had_ been acting awfully strange before his death… hmm…

"Um… I'm sorry, is this seat taken?"

Splinter blinked up at the new voice that had interrupted his thought, his dark brown eyes looked up into icy bluish grey eyes. The stranger had appeared before the elder so fast that he hadn't even heard the footsteps draw nearer to his seated person; to say that he was a little startled would have been somewhat of an understatement. Was he so deep in thought that he had lost his focus of the world around him?

Quickly regaining himself from his shock, Splinter cleared his throat, noticing that the stranger was gesturing politely to the empty bench space beside him, "No. The seat is free."

The nameless other nodded before he swiftly took a seat beside the rat, providing enough space between them to give them both personal space. A couple of seconds of silence passed between the two—in which Splinter tried to throw himself back into his previous thoughts of his departed eldest son—before the rat spoke to the stranger, unable to stop himself from voicing his curiosities, "Excuse me?"

The nameless man turned to look at the other, surprised that the rat was talking to him, despite being a total stranger. His light colored eyes blinked owlishly at the elder, "Y-yes?"

"Pardon me if this question offends you in anyway but… why are you wearing so much outerwear? It is over 90 degrees. Surely you must be uncomfortable wearing so much."

The man released a single chuckle, his face—or what Splinter could see of it anyway—shifted into sheepishness, "Well… no. It actually takes me a long time to get warm. I probably won't feel the heat for another few hours."

"Oh?" Splinter said, leaning in slightly to get a better look at the man's obscured face, noticing the green, reptilian skin that was slightly highlighted by the shine of the sun. "Ah… you are a mutant."

"Yes. That much is obvious," he chuckled again, shrugging his shoulders slightly, "Not sure exactly what I'm mutated _from_ but, whatever it is, it kind of sucks."

Splinter released a light laugh, his shoulders shaking lightly with the motion, "Wouldn't it be more effective if you didn't shield yourself from the sun?"

"Well, yes but… well, there's another reason why I'm clothed this heavily." The nameless mutant paused in his words, wriggling his hands and wrists nervously as he did, "I… I'm not sure I should tell you. You're a stranger after all and… and who would want to listen to someone they don't know complaining about life."

"You bring up a valid point—most people wouldn't stop to listen to a soul with a heavy burden—you do not have to tell me if you do not want to, young one. Nevertheless, I have always found it comforting to seek the company of a kind stranger to share my woes with."

"… Why?" The younger mutant sounded perplexed.

"They probably won't see the person. Again, many people believe that it is far more comforting to share their burdens with someone they don't know rather than someone they do know. They don't have to worry about prejudice or judgment from the ones they care about most in life."

The boy nodded with a slow dip of his chin, his light colored eyes slowly saddened as he mentally debated with himself. This did not go unseen by the observant elder. When the unnamed mutant did not talk, Splinter spoke again to vanquish the silence, "Is there something troubling you _that_ much, young one?"

"Huh?" The stranger breathed, wondering what the other was referring to; he hadn't said anything yet.

Splinter quickly clarified, "Your eyes—they remind me of one of my younger sons' whenever he feels burdened with too much emotional stress (6). They are filled with such inner turmoil and chaos… it seems like you have a lot to think about these days. Am I correct in assuming this?"

"…Yes," the boy conceded, his shoulders slumping forward with slight defeat. "Is it that obvious? What I am feeling, that is."

Splinter smiled with understanding, "To me, I suppose. When you father four sons for more than two decades, reading faces gradually starts to becomes as easy as breathing."

The boy smiled behind his scarf, his obscured expression brightening only a little, "You have four sons? How old are they?"

"They are twenty-six now and…" the elder paused, frowning slightly, "… and I only have three sons now."

The younger mutant blinked, his curiosity quickly overshadowing the sadness, "Three? What happened to the fourth?"

"… He died… four years ago."

"Oh… I am so sorry," What else could he possibly say? It was only proper and polite to provide comfort, even if he couldn't fully understand what the furry other was feeling right now. "I didn't know. I'm sorry if the question was too forward…"

"No, no," Splinter dismissed with a gentle flick of his wrist. "Anyone in your position would have asked the same thing."

"Hmm." The other hummed in agreement, "Do you… do you still think about him?"

Splinter nodded, smiling sadly, "Everyday. I highly doubt that I will ever be able to stop thinking about him."

"… You sound like a very devoted father."

"Ah, I can only hope that that is how my sons see me." He paused, turning more fully to the mutant beside him, "How old are you, young one?"

The boy hesitated, his posture becoming withdrawn and uncertain, "Uh… I've been told that I'm twenty-two but I'm not exactly sure."

Splinter blinked with puzzlement, "You were _told_ that you were twenty-two?"

"Y-yes. You see, I don't know who I am, exactly," he started as he began to wriggle his wrist again. "All I know—knew—to be true was told to me by others for the past year. And now," he sighed, slumping forward even further so that he could rest his elbows upon his knees. "It turns out that everything that had been told to me, more than likely, was nothing but lies."

"…You suffer from memory loss?" It came out more like a statement rather than a question.

The boy nodded, his hands fisted into the material that covered his legs, "And now, I don't know where I truly belong. I don't know if I have parents, siblings, or friends. I don't know if anyone is looking for me. I don't even know what my real name is… _**if**_ my name was falsified as well. I've been doing nothing but searching this entire month. Nothing has turned up and… and I am beginning to lose hope…"

Splinter's heart reached out to the nameless boy. He didn't know how he would feel if one of his sons disappeared. All of his thoughts and dreams would be plagued with the 'what if's' and 'what could have happened's' until the whereabouts of his son, dead or alive, were found. And what would make the situation worst is exactly what this young man was going through. If the boy had his memories, or at least a significant portion of them, he could easily find out where he truly belonged. It was a lose-lose situation; the people he was looking for had no idea where he was— or even if he was still alive—and he had no idea who to look for, and it was a very unfair situation for both sides.

Not only that, but the young mutant had, apparently, been told fictitious stories of who he was and his origin. Someone had taken advantage of his weakness and filled his head with falsehoods—they had manipulated him when his mind couldn't tell the difference between what was true or untrue; right or wrong.

"That is very dishonorable," the old rat said finally, shaking his head sadly at his anonymous companion. "I am sorry that you had to go through that."

"It's alright. At least I'm on the right track now," he replied before he reached up to tug at his scarf. "And… the other reason why I'm wearing this much is because I do not want to show my face to others. Not until I have some semblance of what my identity is."

"That is a wise choice. Have you thought of ways to get your memory back, young one?"

"Uh, no," he admitted, "I thought that it would just… gradually come back to me."

"But it has already been a year, correct?" Splinter said, gesturing gentle, open palm towards the other, as if to offer another point of view to the situation, "It is obvious that your mind is withholding your memories from you. What you must do is strengthen all parts of yourself—mental, physically, and spiritually—in order for you to access them."

"I… I'm afraid I don't fully understand," the stranger admitted reluctantly, reaching a hand back to scratch at the back of his head.

"Well, I cannot understand what you are going through based on first hand experience… but I do know that you must feel like you are a stranger to yourself. That cannot be a good feeling for anyone."

"No… no, it isn't."

Splinter sadly smiled at the young man's weak reply, "What I am trying to say is that your mind is probably having a hard time connecting to the rest of you. If you quiet your mind and get rid of all other distractions—even for just a little while—you may be able to reconnect yourself to the memories that have been taken away from you."

"R-really?" The boy's eyes brightened slightly with hope.

The wise rat nodded, "It is called meditation. It is the practice of fully relaxing the mind so that it can go beyond the basic function of mere thinking. It also helps to heighten one's awareness and spiritual strength. All you have to do is create a comfortable space for yourself so that there is little to no room for distractions. Once that is done, you just merely… clear your mind of all earthly worries. Simple, yes?"

"Sounds like it… but knowing me and my clumsy self, I'll probably do it wrong." The stranger admitted shyly, "I haven't been able to do anything right lately."

"Trouble does not always last. Good things are always sure to follow." Master Splinter said with a wide, reassuring smile, "As the great sages say, one cannot have a rainbow without rain."

"Huh… I guess you are right," the boy said, an enlightened, genuine smile spreading across his hidden lips. "…No rain, no rainbow."(7)

Splinter stared back at his anonymous companion; a sense of déjà vu came over him that he could not place. Had he heard those words somewhere before?

"Oh!" The younger mutant suddenly gasped, looking at his wrist watch with shock. "I lost track of time. I should've left the part ten minutes ago."

Splinter's bristly eyebrows furrowed and he slowly stood on his feet after the other. "Ah, my apologies for keeping you, young one. I did not realize you had some place to be."

"Oh no, I should have been paying attention to the time…but, if anything, your words have been very helpful; thank you," the boy chuckled, slightly bowing his head respectfully to his elder. "I guess you were right about finding comfort in talking with a stranger."

Splinter smiled again, bowing his head to the boy in return. "Glad to help, young one. I wish you the best of luck with finding your identity."

"Thank you… heh, I'm going to need it," were the boy's final words before he took off down the long pathway, providing the Master with a brief departing wave just as his figure faded away into the distance.

Splinter paused, watching as his nameless companion ran to his next destination. He silently wished he had gotten the lad's name before the lad left but a part of him—for some odd reason—felt he would see the boy again someday. Why did he feel this way? He had no idea.

Not questioning his senses, the wise rat took one last glance in the direction that the boy had taken before he turned and began walking in the opposite direction.

(1) Mrs. Jones = April Jones, formally April O'Neil XD

(2) LNPD stands for Late Night Pizza Delivery, the band that Mikey and Emily play for

(3) Adult Swim is the adult Cartoon Network; Robot Chicken is a fifteen minute show that is so random that it is ridiculous XD

(4) The Mall in Central Park- this isn't an actual "Mall" where you buy clothes and what not. It is this long stretch of walkway that has these beautiful, tall trees canopying over it. It is very beautiful, especially in late spring. If you want to see a picture of it, google it~

(5) Donatello said this to Master Splinter in Chapter 2, Life Goes On? (Pt2)

(6) Master Splinter is talking about Donatello

(7) The title of a song by Home Made Kazoku, that is where I got that from. It is a very nice song—it's in Japanese : D

**A/N**: I am so sorry for the long wait. School has been getting on my nerves but I final finished this chapter, yay! Let me know what you think through reviews please; they are very much appreciated (smiles). I want to also thank all those who have read and reviewed the story so far. It means a lot to me (bows). Also, I would like to thank all those who nominated this story for the Stealthy Stories TMNT Fanfiction Competition. I was surprised to see my name and story title up there (blushes). Again, thank you and see you later~

**Random Notes and Questions** (; D): **Based on what you have read so far, do you think Leo had a **_**feeling/hunch**_** that he was going to die or do you think he actually **_**knew**_** he was going to die? If you think he actually had knowledge of his coming death, how do you think he came across the information?**


	7. Survivor's Guilt PT1

**Life Breathing**

**Survivor's Guilt PT1**

_**September 10th 2014**_

_9:33 pm; Unknown Location_

"This is _unacceptable_!"

The once crowded desktop that stood in the center of the lunar-lit office had been hastily cleared by one rough swoop of a tempered hand. The owner of the appendage clenched his hands into tight fists, facing the ceiling-to-floor windows with a rigid, tense physique. He released a slow, shaky exhalation as he attempted to alleviate his anger before talking again.

He took a deep breath, holding it for a couple of seconds before he began to speak again, the frustration in his voice only pacified by a few notches. He was pretty sure that he would begin to feel the full force of his anger again in the next few minutes but he managed to keep his emotions reigned in, "All I asked you to do… was get in, grab the child, and get out without waking the other occupants of the house. It was a simple, comprehendible order. It was a D rank mission-an effortless, in and out job- and what do you do?"

The aggravated man spun on his heels to face the stressor that had set off his less than pleased attitude- a mutant woman that stood before the newly vacant desk as if she were made of solid marble. She didn't blink, she didn't twitch… she didn't even speak on behalf of her own defense. She just… stood there, as if all she could do was breathe and become statuesque on command.

"Not only did you fail to obtain the child but you murdered one of his _guardians_. That was _not_ part of the plan! You were not conditioned to 'off' anybody, Carmen. We have other subordinates designed for that," His voice increased in volume, despite his efforts to keep his anger down to a minimum. How could he not be mad? He had had plans for the boy- grand, extraordinary plans- that would have greatly advanced his research in mutation and biological metamorphosis. The boy's basic configuration as a natural born mutant, as well as his unique DNA signature, would have thrown his work into a completely different caliber of scientific discovery. Now, capturing the boy would be next to impossible, considering the circumstances that had resulted in the failed kidnapping attempt.

There was also the fact that another mutant, the boy's mother, had been killed in the process. This didn't look good at all; this attack would be put under the category of mutant discrimination and, therefore, would be taken very, very seriously. Not only that but there was also the fact that the mother had been apart of the police department; law enforcement officers usually worked twice as hard at their jobs when one of their own was killed in their own home. So, with all of those factors thrown into the mix, there was no way that this little incident would be going away anytime soon...

"I am sorry, sir," The mutant woman final spoke back, her voice was smooth, direct, and... mechanical, almost robotic, "It was not my intention to resort to violence. The mother had already been awake and had attacked me. I had no choice but to engage in combat-"

"But you did NOT have to kill her. You could have knocked her out. You could have waited until she had gone back to sleep before entering the home. You only kill someone when it is a last resort and I can guarantee you that that was not a last resort situation," He all but yelled, pulling back his yelling voice and proceeding to holding his breath for a short number of seconds again. He leaned over his desk and pressed the intercom button on his office phone, a woman's voice almost simultaneously filled the room through the phone's speaker.

"Good evening, sir. What can I do for you?"

"Please collect Carmen. She needs to be brought in for her next treatment. I will sent her to you right now."

"Yes sir. I'll be waiting."

The man released his hand off of the button, glaring at the mutant across from him before waving her away with a flick of hand, "You may go. You're an eyesore at the moment."

The mutant, Carmen, bowed slightly before she turned fluidly on her heels and exited the office, leaving the nameless man to his own thoughts and frustrations. He turned to the window behind his desk once again, crossing his arms over his chest slowly as he gaze out onto the night-covered city that dwelled below. If only his more successful subordinate had not ran away and dropped off the map, he wouldn't have to deal with useless, disappointing substitutes that didn't know how to abide by their orders, no matter how simple or easy those orders were. He still did not know what had motivated his prized mutant to break free from his facility... but he knew that if the mutant didn't want to be found, it would be nearly impossible to find him. Even so, the man had several of his underlings out on the streets, keeping their eyes peeled for their missing comrade.

The nameless man sighed, shaking his head at the dilemma, "Hiro... where have you run off to?"

_10:15 pm; Underground; The Sewer Home_

"Ms. Sampson... isn't-"

_**"Lara."**_

Donatello cleared his throat, adjusting his headset so he could hear his boss's voice a bit more clearly before he continued to slide into his raven black stealth suit, "Lara... isn't it kind of... uh... unorthodox for you to tell me that my department is receiving the funding before your official announcement to the company or the board?"

Lara sighed over the other end of the receiver, _**"Well I suppose... but I was just so excited for you that I couldn't just keep it to myself! I mean, you can't blame a girl for wanting to spread the good news. Besides, I thought that you would be glad to hear that you got the funding."**_

Donnie released a chuckle, adjusting his flexible, black gloves before he bent down to secure and tighten the strings of his boots, "Of course I'm glad. Hell, I'm ecstatic-"

_**"You don't sound like it..."**_ She mumbled under her breath, a pout in her voice.

"-, really I am, Ms.-uh- Lara. I just don't want you to get in trouble for telling me first hand information," Donatello said in a reasoning tone, standing up straight once again while fluidly zipping up the front of his suit. He tried not to grumble or cringe with annoyance at the flexible, somewhat tight fit of the dark ensemble that he was currently enveloped in, "You're still relatively new to your position. Despite the errors of the previous CEO, the board is still looking at individuals of high positions as if they were under a microscope. That, of course, includes you."

_**"Che, don't remind me. Dealing with those tight-assed busy bodies is like dealing with a creeper,"**_ she snorted, _**"They're constantly blowing up my phone, they're always, **__**always**__** asking me about my personal business—like it's their business to know—, and they check my financials **__**every week**__**. Seriously Donnie, you'd think that I had some sort of criminal record with the way they get on my case. It's like they don't have lives of their own; they all need to get laid, that's what…," **_She paused, a shuffling of papers in the background filled Don's ears before she spoke again, _**"…Thank you for your concern though."**_

"N-No problem," Don said, successfully repressing a fit of laughter at her mini-rant. He still found it weird that Lara didn't act like a person in her position usually would. One wouldn't think that someone with her personality would turn out to be a successful and prestigious businesswoman that was good at her job. He had yet to see her in action though, "Thank you for telling me the good news."

He heard a smile enter her voice, _**"You are very welcome Donnie-boy. Heh... you know, I think that about 50% of your success had something to do with that sharp little number you were wearing on the day of the presentation. Oh, I wonder where you could have gotten it from..."**_

Don released a laugh, sauntering over to the lair's mainframe computer in order to check the progression of the program updates that were currently displayed on the screen. All of the security programs appeared to be finished, now all that was left was the actual mainframe itself and all other interfacing devices, stations, and peripherals that he and his family possessed, "Thank you for that as well. Although, I don't think I'll ever wear a suit like that ever again. How do business men do it?"

_**"Your guess it as good as mine. But, you do know that you got the vote of every, single female board member in that room, right?"**_

Don blinked at that, unsure of what, exactly, that meant. His hands began to glide over the large keyboard to the computer, making sure that all past data remained unaltered as all of the updates got closer and closer to being completed, "Uh... really?"

She giggled, _**"Oh most definitely. About half of them couldn't keep their eyes off your ass-"**_

Don nearly mistyped a stream of code, a blush suddenly invading his face, "W-W-What?"

_**"And the other half of them couldn't focus on your presentation, only on your smooth, laid back voice... but the men of the board were greatly impressed by your presentation though."**_

Don cleared his voice, his blush still burning brightly upon his face, "W-well... that's good to know."

_**"What? That women find your backside and voice attractive?"**_

Don sucked his teeth lightly, despite his bashfulness, "No. It's good to know that at least someone heard the presentation. I had been working on that thing nonstop ever since I found out my department had a shot."

She released a single chuckle, _**"I could tell. Your information was well organized and easy to follow. Even if most of the girls on the board couldn't stop looking at your physique, I'm pretty sure they heard at least something."**_

Don smiled at the compliment, "Thanks Ms.-"

_**"La-ra~"**_ She swiftly cut him off in a sing-song voice.

"R-right… Lara."

_**"You're welcome," She paused slightly, a muffled yawn escaped her before she spoke again, "Welp, I'm about to turn in for the night. I shall see you tomorrow Donnie-boy."**_

"Same to you. Sleep well."

_**"You too."**_ -**Click**

Donatello sighed, pulling his headset away from his ear and placed it upon the keyboard of the Lair's main computer. He seriously didn't understand his boss sometimes; to him, she was an enigma, wrapped up in a riddle, surrounded by a mystery, and deep-fried in a conundrum. Based on first impressions alone, Lara seemed like the type of woman who carried herself with unmovable pride and had little to no tolerance for nonsense- whether it be on her job or in her personal life. She looked like an alpha female through and through- strong, independent... and extremely intimidating- but then, she would start to talk to you and a completely different person began to shine through. She was... unique, quirky, and unpredictable. There was also the fact that CEOs- he was pretty sure of this now- didn't call their workers on a regular basis to just 'check in' on the family and/or give them good news about their job position.

... But, then again, this was his very first real job so he really didn't have anything to go on when it came to proper CEO behavior.

"Awww, was that your girlfriend Donnie?"

Donatello nearly jumped out of his skin when a familiar female voice vibrated directly next to his ear. He spun around so quickly that the back end of his shell bumped rather painfully into the keyboard terminal. He grimaced slightly, his eyes locked onto the jovial, golden brown eyes of his future sister-in-law, Mona Lisa.

The lizard lady grinned at his reaction, placing her webbed hands on her hips, her form dressed in a woman's style version of what Don was wearing. She wasn't able to do any 'crime-fighting', due to the fact that she was pregnant, but she was still able to do some surveillance from the Battle Shell; the more eyes on the team, the better, "I'm right, aren't I? Is it some kind of secret or something? I promise I won't tell a soul."

Don groaned, resisting the urge to face-palm himself, "First of all, please don't sneak up on me like that; I was in contemplation mode. You nearly gave me a heart attack, Mona."

"Oh, my bad," She said sarcastically, rolling her eyes as she took a step or two back from the turtle genius, knowing how he was when it came to suddenly limited personal space.

He glared at her half-heartedly before he continued, "Secondly, she is my boss, not my girlfriend. We are not secretly dating, nor are we entangled in a chick-flickish office romance. If anything, we are friends. Jesus..."

Mona giggled, "Someone's in heavy denial. Man, I can't believe Raph was right."

"...About what?"

"About the fact that you seriously need to get laid," She said, shaking her head sadly, "I've never seen a man so sexually frustrated in my entire life..."

"Sh-shut up," He grumbled, his blush came back with a fiery vengeance as his form swiftly turned back around to face the screen, "I am not discussing this with you."

Mona pouted, "Why not? Can't a sister be worried about her brother's love life?"

"No, she cannot," Don said curtly, internally rejoicing at the fact that all updating processes had finally finished, "Please Mona, just let it drop, okay?"

Mona was silent for a moment before she sighed, swiftly moving forward to stand directly beside Donnie, "Oh alright... but if you ever need me to set you up, I know this really smoking hot girl that's perfect for you. She's really into smart guys with muscles too."

It was Don's turn to roll his eyes as Mona nudged him suggestively in the ribs, "Yeah, I'll be sure to keep that in mind, sis. Now, are Mikey and Raph suited up yet?"

She tilted her head to the side, placing her hands on her hips again as she watched Donnie finish up on the updates to the lair, his fingers dancing across the keyboard as he applied each technological change with care, "I know Raphie's already in his stealth gear but he hasn't come down stairs yet… and I haven't seen Mikey leave his room; I'm assuming he's almost done too."

Don hummed in thought, turning his head slightly towards his soon-to-be sister-in-law as he continued with his work, "Alright… can you go check on them if they aren't down here within the next ten minutes?"

She nodded, smiling the genius as his mocha eyes slid to her reluctantly, "Sure thing, Donnie."

Raphael didn't know what it was about the room that kept on drawing him in whenever he stopped by their old humble abode. He didn't understand the unconscious need to turn that knob and push that navy blue door open. Maybe he was a masochist, pulling the scab off of a large, nasty wound over and over again without being able to stop himself. Every time he entered that room, a little part of him hoped to see his leader—his brother—sitting next to his neatly made futon, taking up a meditative stance with incense burning or candles blazing. He had hoped that he would see those wise, golden eyes open and turn towards him, silently asking him what was wrong. He had hoped that the warmth and luster that used to reside in the room had stayed, providing with some reassurance to Raphael that his brother had once existed; that he had once argued, laughed, fought, and lived with them.

Sadly, there was nothing. There was no warmth or air that was so uniquely Leonardo. There was no burning incense or lit candles… and, worst of all, there was no Leo. All that remained was a clean, untouched room coated with a thin layer of dust and the echoes of memories both fond and frustrating.

Raph sighed softly, shaking his head as he slowly walked into the room, illuminated by nothing but the hallway light through the open door. He walked over and past his brother's drawers, his hand slid absentmindedly over the surface of it, collecting dust against the pads of his fingertips. He grimaced at the small grey cloud that had stirred up because of it; he knew he was going to have a sneezing fit sometime later in the evening because of it… he just hoped that it didn't take place during a fight.

"Raph…" The hot-headed turtle turned his head just enough to see Michelangelo standing in the middle of Leo's doorway, a mixture of worry and slight melancholy etched into his usually happy looking face, "… You know that it wasn't your fault."

"… Heh… the hell it wasn't," Raph denied automatically with a humorless chuckle. His face had contorted into a scowl as his eyes narrowed at the other, as if daring his younger brother to repeat his statement, "If Leo hadn't taken that blow fer me… If I hadn't been caught off guard the way I was, then… then he'd still be here wit' us."

"Dude, it's the Shredder we're talking about," Mikey challengingly reassured, stepping deeper into the room and towards his brother. At this point, Raph had turned his head back around, his bright colored eyes focusing in on Leo's futon as if waiting for it to make a move, "You know, evil little alien in a metal suit? Terrorized us for seven years? Caught us with our pants down more than a billion times? There's no way you could've known, Raph."

"… but Leo had told me," the hot-headed turtle said just above a whisper after several seconds of undisturbed silence passed between himself and Mikey. He turned to the far right of the room, spotting Leo's twin katanas propped up against a makeshift closet made out of gym lockers, "... He had told me, Mikey—warned me, even—not ta go off on my own after the Shredda. He told me not ta let my emotion's cloud my judgement… but all I could think 'bout was Mona and… and Doe."

"No one blames you, Raph," Mike said, an uncharacteristic frown touched his sea green lips, "You were going to be a father; he was threatening your family… our family—"

"But I shoulda known, Mikey!" He spun around suddenly, a growl in his voice and a consuming sadness in his eyes; both caused the orange loving trickster to automatically cease talking, the young mutant's form stiffening from Raphael's outburst, "I shoulda known he was just tryin' ta draw one of us away from the group. I shoulda… I shoulda thought it through. If I had just calmed my ass down… if I hadn't run off like some sorta ravin' lunatic—"

"How could you think it through, Raph?" It was Michelangelo's turn to retort, regaining his confidence and stepping closer to the other, "He was threatening our family and you had the most to lose. Leo… Leo was only protecting his little brother."

Raphael's intense gaze only mildly lost its edge before he slowly began to relax his neck, his head hanging a little as if he were submitting himself to his brother's words. It wasn't like he didn't know why Leo did what he had done at that critical moment in time. Leo had always been extremely overprotective when it came to his family and his friends so Raph knew that the leader would have done anything, no matter what the consequences were, to insure the hothead's safety.

But why did Leo have to give up his life for someone like him? A fearless leader for a ninja drop out? A model student for a reckless rebel? A legendary warrior for a hot headed brute?

It was hardly an even exchange…

A/N: Sorry for the extra extra long wait everyone. I've been going through a bit of a rough patch with my family as well as putting my life together, seeing as I graduated from college and am currently looking for work in my field. I'm a bit down but... hopefully I'll get over that. Hope you enjoyed.


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